


Rovaan do Zii

by originalworksof



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Elder Scrolls Lore, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Multiple Pairings, Original Character-centric, POV Multiple, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalworksof/pseuds/originalworksof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no mistakes. And there are second chances, in metal and in men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I — Unbound [Ahlam]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheerfulparadigm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerfulparadigm/gifts), [Aubadeofapollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aubadeofapollo/gifts), [Naturally_Quiet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naturally_Quiet/gifts).



> This is a very, very long project that keeps getting reworked and not finished. I apologize. 
> 
> You can find inspiration for this project on my Pinterest [https://www.pinterest.com/noctyourgirl].
> 
> I hope to get half-way with this by the end of the year 2017, but we will see with depression and college. Thank you for reading and I hope you stick around!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Redguard thief, a Breton warrior, and a Nord mage walk into Helgen.

The first thing she felt was the blistering cold.

Too used to the warmth of Hammerfell, Ahlam opened her eyes  quickly  and noticed that her hands were bound. She calmed her breathing— _you’ve been through this before_ —and she shifted to see if her dagger was at her waist. There was not a single blade in sight. She gritted her teeth, agitated. _Just my luck_. Ahlam shook her head and slouched back in her seat. She glanced down at her right arm and noticed her golden bangle was missing. She cursed mentally. _Shit_. _My father’s bangle is gone_!

Ahlam surveyed her surroundings. Currently seated in a rickety cart, she assessed her injuries. There wasn’t blood anywhere, but her right arm was  slightly  sore. She rolled her shoulder and hissed She prayed to Tall Papa, asking that nothing  be broken.  _I do not want to visit a priestess of Tava_ ; _they always ask too many questions._

Ahlam noticed that she was not alone for there were two other people in the cart  both appeared to be unconscious and weaponless.  _Bound, weaponless, and in a cart with two strangers_. _Fantastic_.

The male Breton had his mouth open. His legs were apart and his neck was Half-stretched over the cart. A few branches scratched his face and Ahlam grimaced. A few brown leaves got tangled into his brown locks. The cart jostled and Ahlam knew the poor man’s neck would be aching when he awoke.

Draped across his lap was a female Nord. Her braided blonde hair fell across her features. Ahlam noticed the dark navy cape that had a thick fur collar—no doubt to keep the cold out. It pooled at Ahlam’s feet. She saw the woman wearing mage robes. All the hems and borders were a pale yellow. _A healer_? _What_ _is_ _she_ _doing_ _here_? The woman moved and so did the cape.

The insignia of a silver, howling bear greeted Ahlam.

Ahlam closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and said every curse between every Divine she could think of. She opened her eyes and  suddenly, the blue-white sky seemed even colder. _I’m going to die_. _In Skyrim_. Ahlam  nearly  screamed in frustration but bit back the urge. She looked ahead to see another cart in front, carrying Stormcloaks. Behind them, yet another cart full of the same damned warriors.

Fear settled into her breast as all hope left her. She knew that she was going to  be executed  regardless of where she stood on the war.

“Great, flee one country only to  be executed  in the next.” Ahlam grumbled to herself.

"Ugh, my head.” The Breton groaned and brought his head forward as though to catch it. Ahlam watched as the panic grew on his handsome face. He stared down at his bound hands and looked like he was shaking. _Funny_ _how_ _much_ _people_ _look like animals when afraid_. The Breton stood and the Nord fell. She yelped in surprise and landed at their feet.

“Sit down, prisoner!” The Imperial barked at them. Ahlam and the Breton looked at him in surprise as though realizing that they were prisoners. The Breton sat down  slowly  and seemed to notice Ahlam in that moment. He blinked at her in surprise and opened his mouth to speak; the Nord interrupted him.

“Ouch. Did you have to get up so  suddenly?” Both Ahlam and the Breton stared at the Nord woman. Her voice was soft and ethereal. Ahlam had to wonder if Tava, the spirit of the air, had somehow come in a human shape. And a Nord of all forms! Ahlam missed her hometown, Rihad, in that moment. A port city of great beauty and wealth. Shrines of Tava protected the sailors and city itself.

The woman sat up before frowning. There would be no easy way for her to sit back in the crude seats. She remained on the base of the cart.

“Uhh…no!” The Breton exclaimed, finding his voice. His voice was much lighter than Ahlam expected.  Perhaps  it was the thick beard that gave the illusion of age. “I didn’t see you there. I don't even know what’s going on!” And there’s the panic. Ahlam almost smirked. But hearing a stranger confirm the truth made her panic as well.

The Nord glanced around them and shook her head. “I was traveling with the Stormcloaks. We were close to Darkwater Crossing; it’s a small mining village.” The woman bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know.” Ahlam sighed  loudly , drawing their attention.

“Seems we’re to  be executed."

“Executed?!” The Breton  nearly  stood up again, but Ahlam glanced at the back of the Imperial’s head as a warning. “What do you mean, executed?” He whispered, leaning in. He smelled  oddly  floral and bright despite the dirt upon his features.

“You have a history of crimes, Breton?” Ahlam raised a brow; he shook his head appearing  slightly  alarmed at the prospect of crime. She sighed and glanced at the cart to their right. She saw a tall Nord garbed in light Imperial armor, cantering upon a horse. A bow  was strapped  on his back. He would make it impossible for them to escape. _Unless there was a distraction_ …Ahlam glanced around but only saw the expecting face of the man in front of her.

“ I think  we’re doomed,” she explained. “Were you near the mining town that the Nord mentioned?” Ahlam nodded down to the Stormcloak.

“My name is Aela. Aela the Binder.” Ahlam nodded.

“I don’t think so." The Breton answered. "I was in a town called Ivarstead.” Aela nodded, recognizing the name. “I was helping a dispute between a drunkard and his wife. Someone stole something and the wife though it was her husband.” Ahlam’s eyes widened but she said nothing. “It wasn’t, as the man had claimed. It was another wanderer in the town. I almost caught them but they managed to vanish…I don't remember anything after that, try as might.”

Ahlam sighed. “Was the object a gold vase?” The Breton looked up  sharply  and nodded once. “I’m your thief,” Ahlam smiled and laughed without humor. “Pleased to meet you again. Name’s Ahlam. And, uh, sorry for knocking you out with said vase.” He glared glared at her.

“You!” He stood up before remembering the guard.

“Me.” Ahlam shrugged. “I didn’t mean for you to get executed. A little jail time doesn’t hurt anyone and that’s what I thought you’d get. Or  maybe  the prize for being the hero and returning the stolen vase!” Ahlam added  sarcastically.

She exhaled  sharply  and a gust of cold air came out of her mouth, matching the mountainous scenery. She shivered and realized her clothes were different. She was wearing an uncomfortable burlap sack—at least, that’s what canvas felt like. The tunic barely  covered her shoulders and left her arms bare. Her legs were covered, but her fed were bare and ached from the cold. 

“You should’ve been the one to spend time in jail! Not me. And now look where you’ve gotten us!” The Breton shouted at her. Ahlam shook her head.

“Look, it’s in the past and we’re going to die. All I can say is that I am sorry and I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. You don’t have to forgive me, but at least tell me your name.” The Breton sighed and sat back. He mumbled his name and Ahlam titled his head. “I’m sorry?”

He sighed. “I am Kasteanr Thierry, but you can call me Kastus.” Ahlam smiled, pleased to have at least won his name.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kastus. And you as well, Aela.” Ahlam nodded her head at the Nord. “Since we’re going to die, might as well tell each other a little about ourselves.” Kastus, sulking, didn’t move. Aela glanced at him and then Ahlam, waiting. “Okay…I’ll go first then.” Ahlam cleared her throat and moved to face both of them. Aela, likewise, straightened her posture to listen.

“As I’ve said, name’s Ahlam. I’m Imperial on my mother’s side, but Redguard on my father’s. My home is Rihad in Hammerfell. I’m a Redguard before I’m an Imperial.” She smiled before letting it fade. “I’ve…become a pickpocket as of late.” She glanced at Kastus, who was still glaring at her. “For a long while, I was a wanderer and I’ve been meaning to go back home. I was coming back from visiting my mother in the Imperial City when…well, I found myself here.” Ahlam chuckled.

“Your mother lives in the capital?” Aela asked. Ahlam nodded.

“Yeah. It’s pretty this time of year.” In the waning days of Last Seed, the weather wasn’t too hot nor too cold. The flowers bloomed  readily  and the last days of planting began. Silence fell over them before Aela spoke.

“I’ve always lived in Skyrim and haven’t left its borders. In fact, I hadn’t left my hometown until joining the Stormcloaks.” Ahlam nodded. She applauded the rebels of the war for it reminded her of her own people fighting the Aldmeri Dominion and their magic. Like most Redguards, Ahlam didn’t trust magic. Healing magic was the only kind she found tolerable but even then, she was weary.

“I ran away from my home.” Aela’s voice became even more quiet. “You see, I’ve always wanted to be a healer and my parents didn’t approve of my magic. They wanted me to be a “strong lass” who would settle down with some Nord warrior and have children.” Aela shook her head. “While I do want to marry, I want to first be a mage who can help people.

“My adoptive mother, Gilfre, took me in after that. When the war began, four others and I left to fight for Ulfric. I’ve been traveling with the same regiment since. I’m happy to follow Ulfric wherever he goes. As True High King of Skyrim, he will bring back Talos into our churches and lives. He will  be worshipped  again. We need our Warrior-God. And we Nords will finally have a place to call our own.”

Aela’s speech moved Ahlm. She nodded along with her points. The Nords should have their own nation  just  like how the Redguards split from the Empire. Ahlam wanted to have faith that they would be able to secede from the Empire when the war finished.

“Kastus?” Ahlam spoke  softly. She didn’t want him upset in his last few moments. “What about you?” Kastus gritted his teeth and looked away. Ahlam watched him  sadly. She saw tears in his eyes, which he blinked back. The sigil of Stendarr, the God of Mercy and Justice, was on his cheek.

“I was going to join the Companions.” A group of warriors housed in the city Whiterun, they were the protectors of the people of Skryim. It was an honorable faction. They carried on the tradition of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, who was an king from Atmora. Atmora, a continent to the north of Tamriel, is where all humans first came from. It was the homeland of Nedic peoples and from them came the Nords, Imperials, and Bretons. Ysgramor drove the Elves from Skyrim and became a hero to the Nords.  What Ahlam liked best about him was that he was the first known human to transcribe Nordic speech using Elven principles of writing  . Thus, he  was credited  with being the first human historian.

“I come from Camlorn in High Rock.” Kastus began. “It is far to the west and now a unified nation with Daggerfell.  However , those of us from Camlorn still pride ourselves in our home so we do not say we are from Daggerfell. I wanted to find someone and thought the Companions could help me. But I guess not.” Kastus sighed and looked to the approaching town. Ahlam felt guilty for trapping him. _It’s all my fault_. Ahlam shook her head and looked to the sky.

_Tall Papa, HoonDing, one of you hear my plea. Allow Kastus to somehow escape and find the Companions. I shall  repent in whatever way I can. If I am not allowed into the Far Shores for this, I accept it. Please, allow him freedom._

The carts jostled through the uneven path into the city.  Ahlam spotted a Thalmor agent and two guards beside her on horses speaking to the General Tullius of the Imperial Army. She scoffed and turned to look away.  Kastus and Aela shifted to look at the three Altmer; the Elves faces twisted in disgust while Kastus and Aela’s twisted in hatred.

“Damn the Thalmor.” Aela said as Kastus spoke, “damn them.” Ahlam had a similar train of though.

 “I hate them.” They laughed at their similar hatred. Ahlam thought about what she knew of the Thalmor.

The Thalmor was the combined government of the third Aldmeri Dominion. It was a militarist regime founded on beliefs of racial supremacy. The Thalmor—composed  mainly  of Altmer—sought out to influence  all of  Tamriel.

After overthrowing the Altmeri monarchy, they set their sights on Valenwood, home of the Bosmer. As the Altmer conquered, Emperor Titus Mede II began to war. He failed the Empire after four years of bloody fighting. 

Different nations in the Empire went through strife during those years. At the time, Morrowind suffered from the eruption of Red Mountain. Hammerfell was plagued by infighting between the Crown and Forebear factions.

Ahlam’s paternal side came from the Forebears. They were the old warrior class of Yokuda, the continent where all Redguards hail. Yokuda,  however  , sank in the First Era 792. The true reason is not known, but Ahlam assumed it was because of the Hiradirge. The Hiradirge were masters of “stone magic” and after their defeat in the last civil war, they used forbidden magic, which caused the destruction Yokuda.

The Crowns, called Na-Totambu in Yoku, resumed their traditional rule while the Forebears, or Ra’Gada, began to adapt to the new land of Hammerfell. From Ra’Gada comes the word Redguard, a fact Ahlam prides herself in.

Because of the divide between the Crown and the Forebears, they fought amongst each other instead of building together.  As time went on, the Forebear faction  openly  traded with former enemies and maintained coastal ports while the Crown held the north and  strongly  adhered to the ancient Yokudan ways.

After the Great War ended, peace began between the factions.  Hammerfell began to rebuild,  slowly, into something a bit more like Yokuda with a Redguard flai. Ahlam had heard rumors of a new faction, the Lhotunics, who acted as a middle ground.

In 4E 171, the Aldmeri Dominion invaded the Imperial provinces of Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. A year later, the Emperor signed the White-Gold Concordat. This treaty contained terms almost identical to those rejected before the war. One such term was the outlaw of Talos worship. The Nords could not adhere to that and thus, the Stormcloak Rebellion began.  Another term was that the Empire relinquish large tracts of land in southern Hammerfell to the Dominion.

After the signing of the Concordat, Hammerfell seceded from the Empire and began to fight the Thalmor on its own. In 180, they gained its independence. Twenty years later, Hammerfell is growing more and more prosperous.

Ahlam was proud of where she came from. Ahlam thought back to her father telling her the story of Yokuda’s fall in the caravans.  His brother, Isran, would be the one to  physically  act out the story, slashing with his scimitar one way then the next.  She remembered the delicate chadors her father would lay over her eyes or the heavy shawls he would entrap her in . Ahlam recollected the young boys she would play with. She would fight with them, calling herself Leki, the goddess of swordsmanship.

Ahlam blinked and remembered she was not in a caravan with her family nor was she even in her noble mother’s house. No, she was in Skyrim, where citizens of the town cried out for the deaths of the Stormcloaks. Ahlam jumped as she  was hurdled  with the rest of them. A few threw food at the captured soldiers. A tomato struck a  richly  dressed, gagged Stormcloak. Was he the leader of the regimen? Aela gasped  loudly  and moved as though to help. Instead, a handsome Nord brushed away what he could with his bound hands.

The carts finally stopped and the Imperial soldiers ushered them out, dragging and pulling them roughly. The jump was large and a few stumbled. The gagged Nord lost his footing and fell to his knees. No one moved for a moment. Then, shouts erupted and the handsome Nord from earlier, stood in front of the gagged man. He took a beating from the citizens; soon he  was covered  in eggs, cabbages, and tomatoes. Not once did he lose his footing, even with the cabbage striking him in the chest.

The nobleman  slowly  stood, thanking the Stormcloak warrior with a nod. The warrior flushed and nodded, stepping aside. As the nobleman walked forward, the soldier shook off the extra food. Ahlam stood up and stretched.  Her legs tingled from the blood finally circulating once more—not that it mattered, she would be dead soon enough. 

“End of the road, friends.” She stepped over Aela and hopped down from the cart. She landed on a rock and hissed in pain. She shook her foot until it fell back to the earth. Kastus jumped down beside her and Aela did the same. They stood by the cart watching people  being called  to their deaths. A soldier barked at them to stand in the line. “For what it’s worth, it was a pleasure knowing you two.”

Kastus chuckled. “If by some miracle we make it out of here, we should get to know each other. The three of us.” Ahlam’s eyes widened in surprise. He actually cared to know more about the thief who brought him to his death? Aela smiled and stood in the center.

“I agree.” Ahlam cleared her throat and looked at each of them  carefully.  She took in Kastus’s shoulder-length brown hair; his full beard; his bright green eyes; his exaggerated cupid’s bow. She admired his hooked nose; his slim form; his long fingers. He  was covered  in a thin layer of dirt but it did not hide his beauty. He was only an inch taller than Ahlam  and she liked having equal footing with him. Kastus smiled at her.

Ahlam looked at Aela’s thick blonde braid and her clear blue eyes. Her skin was pale and there were a few freckles along her nose. She took in the scar under her eye and smiled at her button nose and small mouth. She loomed over both Kastus and Ahlam in height but somehow seemed to be their equal. She seemed  oddly  calm and watching her, Ahlam inhaled. Calm is what she needed.

“And if we don’t get out, I hope we meet in the next life.” Ahlam said, smiling at them. Her vision blurred with tears, but she blinked them back. She noticed the tears in their eyes as well. She swallowed her grief and turned to face her death.

“Agreed.” Kastus and Aela said, voices breaking. Ahlam looked down at the ground. The stone was cold beneath her feet and the wind was chilly. She saw grass growing around her  in between  pockets of snow. A single tear escaped and fell at her feet before she exhaled and looked up at the captain of the guard.

Ahlam waited for her name to  be called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 3,667
> 
> First Posted: 2 June 2015  
> Last Edited: 5 February 2017 [minor]


	2. Chapter II — Unbound [Kastus]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a dragon problem.

The first thing he saw was a small scar.

Kastus stood in the line of Stormcloaks and watched Ahlam shift her weight impatiently before standing straight. He noticed a small scar along her inner ankle bone. Standing by the headsmen’s block was a Legionnaire Nord holding a ledger. He began to read off names. Kastus wasn’t listening until he heard a very famous name.

“Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.” Kastus widened his eyes. _That’s_ the _Jarl, the one who’s leading the rebellion? Oh, by the Gods, we_ are _doomed._ He stole a glance at Ahlam who’s expression mirrored his. She glanced at him and frowned in confusion; her mouth was open in disbelief.

Kastus felt dread then, knowing his death was real.

“Ralof of Riverwood.” The Nord did not speak in his loud voice. Instead, the Legionnaire whispered the name as though housing a secret. Kastus glanced around to see the Nord, who had shielded the Jarl step forth. He was still covered in some vegetables. Ralof glanced at them before shaking his head in sorrow. The blond braids around his face moved from the movement.

"Lokir of Rorikstead.” A gangly Nord jumped at the sound of his own name. The Nord looked around, shouting something that sounded vaguely like a protest. Kastus feared death as well. Still, he knew a little of the Nordic afterlife, Sovngarde. One could only be accepted if they died fearlessly or in battle. Lokir would not be accepted if he fled. Which he did.

“Halt!" The Imperial Captain’s voice rang out. Her voice was so commanding that Kastus stilled his breathing. He stole a quick glance to find the woman despite her short stature compared to the Nords.

"You're not going to kill me!” Lokir shouted over his shoulder, sounding touched in the head. Kastuslooked up at the watchtowers, saw archers notch arrows into their bows. Kastus looked back at Lokir with fearful eyes. _You fool_! The Captain did not finish her command before arrows were set loose in the sky. Time slowed as Kastus watched arrow after arrow pierce the man. Blood bloomed in his canvas clothing and his eyes bulged. Lokir turned as though to say something. An arrow struck him in the eye before he crumpled to the ground.

Kastus vomited at his feet. Ahlam grimaced and a few soldiers moved away from him like he had the plague. Aela moved closer to him. He felt her warmth and was soothed by it. Ahlam stepped closer as well.

“Haven’t seen a dead body?” Ahlam said, grimly and quietly. Kastus’s legs shook, but he was able to stand thanks to Aela’s support.

“Not like that, no.” He spat the remaining bile from his mouth. Ahlam shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, then. Death…it gets easier to deal with, but a part of you hurts each time you see it.” Kastus looked up at her, confused by her faraway look.

Ahlam was startling yet beautiful. Her skin was a deep rich color, but lacked the redness of the desert like other Redguards. It reflected on her Imperial blood. Her eyes were golden, not even brown. He had seen Khajiits, but none had such arresting eyes like her. Her lips were relaxed, despite the pressing situation. Her nose was tall, but soft in definition. It did not stand out like his own. Her brows were thick and long enough to blend into the forests of Valenwood.

She had an intricate design across her face. He had never seen war paint quite like that. Dots were across her brows and in the centre of her brows a larger oval was drawn—it reminded Kastus of a crown. Her eyes had white paint from her inner eye to the end of each side of her temple, sweeping upwards. There was another lower tier across the centre of her nose and around her cheeks. Finally, horizontal lines were drawn on her lips giving the appearance of someone had sewn her mouth closed. Something about it reminded him of a skull with a crown. Either way, it was intimidating.

It was her hair that caught his attention out of everything. Black tresses trailed behind her in loose curls and moved in the breeze against her back. Kastus thought of the ocean and how the waves looked at night.

Ahlam watched a Stormcloak walk forward. Kastus noticed the gold hoop in her nose as well as a flash of gold where her ears were, but her hair covered the piercings.

“Are you staring because of the tattoo or the piercings?” Ahlam’s voice was flat and disinterested. Kastus jumped.

“Neither. I-I didn’t mean to—” He was caught off by the Nord, who had been reading the ledger.

“Wait. You two. Step forward. Who are you?” They stepped forward together, avoiding the small pool of vomit.

“My name is Ahlam.” Her voice rang out and quieted the garrison. “I was coming from the Imperial City and heading back to Rihad.” An accent, somehow ancient, surrounded the city’s name. _Yoku is a dead language_ , Kastus thought, _but could she speak it_? “I am but a wanderer caught at the wrong time in between two warring factions. As a Forebear, I know what that’s like and trust me, I have plenty of reason to not get caught up in your war too.” Ahlam crossed her arms. The Captain was unimpressed.

Kastus wasn’t surprised she hadn’t mentioned stealing in Rihad. He wanted to tell them about her petty thievery, but she was right. At most, she deserved a few days in jail before being allowed back out into the world. Execution would be unjustified. _Stendarr forgive me for even thinking about telling them_.

“I am Kasteanr Thierry. I hail from High Rock and journeyed here to join the Companions. I have done nothing wrong save for falling asleep underneath the stars.” The Nord holding the ledger frowned.

“That’s strange. The reports say that you and the Redguard were in leagues with each other and stole a valuable item.” Kastus glanced worriedly at Ahlam. She kept a cool expression and nodded once.

“You know, as much as I’d like that to be the truth,” Ahlam began. She moved about as she spoke. “I mean, look at him. He’s so handsome. Anyone would want to have him as a partner in crime. But alas, today is the first day I’ve met him.

“You see, someone did steal a vase. I stole it back from the original thief. I was going to make off with it, but I felt guilty. However, this man didn’t even know my plan and tried to take it from me. He’s the real hero of the story, you see. Take it from the thief who took it from a thief to give back to the owner. Sadly, I knocked him out and planted it on him so the guards would take him as I slipped away in the night.” Kastus grimaced. Had that actually been her plan?

Ahlam sighed and shrugged. “I only wanted him to serve a day or two in jail, not get his head lobbed off. It’s too pretty for that.” Kastus chuckled nervously. He wasn’t used to the attention. “So if anyone gets out of here alive, it’ll be him.” Kastus inhaled sharply. _No_ … _she’d give up her own life for mine_?

The ledger-reader nervously shuffled back and forth before looking at the Captain.  "Captain. What should we do? They are not on the list for beheading.” The Captain pulled the ledger from his hands and tore the list. Kastus felt his heart shatter.

“Forget. The. List.” She spoke through her teeth. “They go to the block!” She shouted and Hadvar jumped. Ahlam glanced back at him.

“And here I thought we were going to have a nice breakfast.” Kastus cracked a smile at her and Aela laughed. Ahlam gestured with her head to follow them towards a shortening line. Aela stood next to Ralof. He sighed and muttered something, but he was too far away for Kastus to hear him. Instead, Kastus stood on the left side of Ahlam.

The General of the Imperial Army began to speak. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

“Thank you,” Kastus muttered to Ahlam over the speech. “For what it’s worth.” The Jarl grumbled through his gag, causing a few citizens from the town to laugh at him.

“For what it’s worth, I hope you’d have done the same for me.” Kastus bit his lip in guilt and Ahlam laughed. “Oh, good to know you’d rat me out the second you got the opportunity.”

“You aren’t mad?” Ahlam shook her head.

“It means you’re trustworthy.”

“…and restore the peace!” The Imperials began to holler and cheer as did the citizens of the town. A strange roar sounded overhead, quieting everyone. Ahlam, Kastus, and Aela glanced up along with others. The sky darkened for a fraction of a second. _Perhaps it was the light_ , the three of them assumed.

“What was that?” Hadvar questioned loudly. The General shook his head.

“It's nothing. Carry on.” The Captain saluted.

“Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites.” She spoke to a Priestess of Arkay, god of life and death. Kastus bowed his head in respect and noticed Ahlam bowing her head and closing her eyes. Only Aela stared straight forward.

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved—” A Stormcloak stepped forward and broke off her speech. Aela had sneered at the mention of Eight Divines instead of Nine.

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with.” Kastus couldn’t care more about who the Nords did or did not worship; he had his own gods to tend to. He watched Aela’s face fall as the Stormcloak kneeled down in front of the chopping block. Ralof stepped towards her and touched her arm as best he could.

“As you wish…” The priestess stepped back. The Stormcloak barred his neck to the sky.

“Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” The headsman swung his axe and the warrior’s head rolled into a basket. Aela had turned into Ralof with a muffled gasp. Ahlam had closed her eyes and Kastus noticed he was shaking.

“You Imperial bastards!” A Stormcloak woman shouted, tears in her eyes. A few of the citizens cried behind them about “justice” and “death to the Stormcloaks.”

“As fearless in death as he was in life.” Ralof commented lightly. His eyes were watery.

“Jurgan was a good man.” Aela’s voice cracked.

“Next, the Redguard thief!” The Imperial Captain called. Another roar sounded in the sky, sending chills up Kastus’s spine. It was much closer this time, but it was hard to pinpoint where; was it behind the mountains to the east or was it to the south of them, from Cyrodiil?

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” Hadvar asked, quietly this time.

“I said, next prisoner!” The Captain shouted. Hadvar sighed and gestured to Ahlam.

“To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

“See you guys around.” Kastus blinked back tears as he watched Ahlam’s fleeting form head to the block. She sat on her haunches for a moment, facing the block covered in blood and other body matter. Kastus walked over to Aela and Ralof. He leaned into her and she dipped her head down into him. Her braid touched his back. It was oddly comforting.

Ralof stood straight and did not glance once at them. Aela rested her head against his. “What was that sound?” Kastus whispered and she nodded, thinking. He felt her hair move and the warmth of her body.

The executioner cleared his throat. Ahlam leaned forward and rested her head in the groove. Blood covered her chin and Kastus grimaced as he watched.

“It sounds almost like…” Aela frowned and tried to recall the familiar sound. As if hearing Aela’s thought, there was the roar.

“What in Oblivion is that?” The General yelled.

The executioner brought the axe to her neck, making sure it would be a clean swing. The metal from the blade was cold but splattered with blood. Ahlam swallowed and the blade bobbed with her.

“Sentries, what do you see?” The Captain shouted, panic in her voice. Time stood still and separate for Kastus, Aela, and Ahlam just then. Their eyes widened and they each turned to look up at the sky. Ahlam flipped over to see it; Kastus stepped away from Aela; Aela’s hair twirled once.

“Like a—“ Kastus started and then he heard the clear voice of a Nord.

“Dragon!” Time resumed. Everyone saw a huge black dragon land on top of the tower. The executioner fleet through the air; when he landed, his body was broken. The dragon looked down at Ahlam and then at Kastus and Aela. It seemed to chuckle at them before roaring into the sky.

Fire rained down. Buildings began to crumble. Rocks went flying. People screamed and were crushed. The three of them stayed still; two standing and one lying down.

“It’s the end of the world.” Aela whispered in awe. Kastus was enraptured by the dragon. Its scales were black as the Void and its eyes were rubies that glimmered with power and hatred. It was beautiful and terrifying, like and unlike Ahlam. As though reading his mind, Aela called to her.  Ahlam was still laying on the block as though awaiting her death. Ahlam blinked and pulled herself up clumsily. She ran towards them and collided into them.

“Aela, Kastus. Thank the Gods you two are safe.”

“Not for long. We need to find some kind of safety, now!” Aela glanced around before noticing a group of Stormcloaks inside a tower. “There!” She pointed and they ran.

All around them, civilians screamed and were dying. The Imperials were shooting arrows at the dragon and trying to save the townspeople. Some of the Stormcloaks fought beside the Imperials, but many were rallying together and cutting off each others’ bindings.

“Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now!” Ulfric spoke to Ralof. The three refugees hurled themselves into the tower before Ralof closed the door. They landed on top of one another; Kastus caught at the bottom.

“Aela!” Ralof cried out before picking her up. He spun her in a circle and she laughed. Ahlam rolled off of Kastus and the two of them lay on the floor of the tower.

“Ralof, I’m glad you’re safe!” Aela smiled. Kastus watched them upside down. She held out her hands, asking him to cut off the bindings. He grasped her wrists and cut the rope with his dagger. Immediately, Aela found a spare dagger and began to cut away at Ahlam’s bindings. Ralof helped Kastus stand before cutting the rope. His hands were warm and calloused.

“Thank you.” Kastus mumbled and Ralof smiled at him.

“You’re welcome.”

“A thief never forgets how nice her hands are.” Ahlam said, kissing her own palms and knuckles. Aela laughed and Kastus scoffed. “Now that the reunion is over, I would like to leave. Now. I don’t want to be in a foreign land with a dragon terrorizing towns. Why didn’t you say you have dragons?” Ahlam bounded on each foot and looked more and more panicked by the next word. Kastus couldn’t tell how much was an act and how much was real panic.

Aela turned to Ralof, cutting Ahlam off. “My sweet, do we have any spare armor or weapons?” Ralof glanced at both of them before nodding. They followed him to a chest. He pulled out a bow and quiver full of iron arrows. Both Ahlam and Kastus reached for it, but Ahlam was faster at snatching it from Ralof’s hand. She notched an arrow and grimaced.

“These won’t even maim anyone, let alone kill someone. Does the Legion use the same?” Ralof nodded slowly. He didn’t know if she was a spy. “Ugh, no wonder it took six arrows to kill one gangly Nord.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“If you’re complaining, you can give it to me.” Kastus held his hand out. Ahlam shook her head.

“Not on your life, Breton.”

“Here, this might suit you better.” Ralof handed him an iron sword. It wasn't strong and could barely cut through a person, but it was better than nothing. Ralof unsheathed his own sword and slid a hide shield on his left arm. “Best head up the stairs. I’ll follow.”

Aela lead the group up the stairs; Ralof guarded the rear. Ahlam held the bow tightly in her left hand. Kastus had left his sword in its scabbard as there was no need to draw a blade that couldn’t kill a dragon.

“Look out!” Ahlam cried and pulled Aela by the cloak into her arms. They collided against the wall. The dragon burst through the tower. Stones cascaded like rain from above, blocking the rest of the stairs. One Stormcloak screamed before being trapped beneath them. The dragon inhaled and out came fire. Kastus took a step back and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. _There’s no way I can strike it from here._ The dragon gave another chuckle before flying off. Kastus didn’t realise how much sound the tower absorbed for everything was louder with the hole. His ears rang.

“Thank you, Ahlam.” Ahlam only nodded, letting go. There was a tear in Aela’s cloak. Ahlam stood at the edge of the new exit. She notched an arrow and glanced abot. A few arrows flew close by and Ahlam responded with a few of her own.

“See the inn on the other side?” Ralof placed a hand on Kastus’s shoulder and pointed to a burning building. “Jump through the roof and keep going!” Kastus turned to look at him, incredulous.

“You want us to land in a burning building?” Ralof grinned and nodded. _I’m surrounded by maniacs_.

“We can make it.” Ahlam said, nodding once. She grinned suddenly. “It isn’t that far; come on!” Ahlam didn’t even finish her sentence before she was flying through the air. She rolled as she touched the floor. Kastus glanced at Aela. With a shuddering breath, he jumped. He didn’t know how to roll and nearly fell into the fire. Ahlam pulled him by his hip. They stumbled for a moment.

“Thank you.”

“Everyone is thanking me after I drag them into this mess. What gives?” Ahlam shook her head and cupped her mouth. “Aela! Come on!” Aela stood at the edge of the tower, her robes and hair blowing through the wind. She looked like a painting. Aela tucked her hair behind her ear. “Come quickly, this building won’t hold!” Ahlam pushed Kastus towards the hole in the floor. “Go! Stay alive and we’ll find you.”

“But I don’t—“

“Go!” She repeated, pushing him further. With reluctance, he jumped down to the first floor and ran until he found cover behind a large rock. The building groaned behind him. The dragon circled overhead before roaring again. Kastus pulled his sword from its sheath. There was a strange creaking sound and Kastus looked back at the inn. It collapsed in front of him, smothering any and all life inside. His heart stilled for a beat before resounding loudly in his ear; his vision became blurry from tears. _Dead. They’re dead._

Kastus’s breathing came out unevenly from the panic and stress. He glanced above the rock and saw the dragon chewing an Imperial. The dragon shook the man once, twice before tossing him aside. Kastus swallowed and sank back behind the rock. The fire that rained down from the sky came close to where he was sitting. He jumped up and backed away from it.

Hadvar, holding a child’s hand, ran to the rock and sat beside Kastus. He was breathing heavily and was covered in sweat, blood, and a bit of singed flesh. Hadvar opened his eyes to see Kastus; he grinned as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Still alive, prisoner?” Kastus glared. “Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” Hadvar stood, sword in hand once more. He waved at an older Legion member to watch the young boy. He was crying and the Legionnaire held him, cooing soft words.

Kastus looked back at the destroyed inn. _There’s no way they survived that_. _And now, this dragon is going to kill me_. _How did this even happen_? Kastus didn’t think it was Ahlam’s fault. He had hope she had had some reason for stealing. As he began to follow Hadvar, he thought of different reasons. _Money_? _Water_? _Boredom_?

Kastus didn’t hear Hadvar’s warning of standing against the wall until he felt the earth around him shack. The dragon had landed on the wall right above him. Kastus paled and stared. The dragon breathed fire at the home in front of him, clawed at the wall, before taking off. Unaware that it was being admired, the dragon flew up to cause more havoc.

Kastus continued to follow Hadvar through the maze of bodies and blood. The stench of blood and the screams of people calling for their mothers made his stomach twist. People were torn to pieces—bitten off arms, bleeding legs. One Imperial soldier had his stomach torn out and had bled to death in the arms of a comrade. Many cried in agony and were dragged away. Sometimes, only parts of their body were dragged across the bloody field.

Kastus felt light-headed and a few black spots covered his vision. He blinked them back as he dispelled the idea of being sick once more. _Gods, has it only been a short hour since I last threw up_? Archers were shooting at the dragon but each arrow fell short or didn’t hurt the dragon; its scales were impenetrable. The General of the Imperial Army barked instructions and noticed Hadvar and Kastus.

“Hadvar! I need you front and centre.” Hadvar shook his head. He pointed his sword towards the keep.

“That’s the keep. Just keep following it down until you get out. You’ll be near Riverwood; you can find shelter there.” Kastus nodded and smiled in thanks before running towards it. Three figures ran towards him. Kastus drew his sword and cautiously met them. He noticed the tallest Nord with blond braids adorning the side of his face. Despite being covered in soot and blood, he was grinning. Along side him, two women were jogging towards the keep.

Kastus widened his eyes and his heart surged. Could it be…?

“Kastus!” Ahlam shouted and pulled him into a hug. She was nearly as dark as her hair but her teeth were a bright white in comparison. Aela waited for Ahlam to move before hugging him lightly. “Told you I’d find ya.” Ahlam winked and Aela laughed. She, too, was covered in soot and even the yellow hem of her robes had turned into an ugly brown.

Kastus felt tears running down his face. The three of them looked panicked and moved to comfort him. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” Kastus mumbled. Aela shook her head, smiling at him, and wiped his tears maternally.

“Don’t worry. We just need to get out of here and then we can have breakfast.” She grinned at Ahlam, who glanced up at the sky. The fire was gone, but the people still yelled and the dragon roared.

“I dunno. It might be a late breakfast.” Ahlam mumbled. Kastus realized she was telling time by the color of the sky. He wanted to laugh, but felt too sick to even muster a chuckle.

“Hey, if you guys are done talking, we do have a dragon problem.” Ralof impatiently waved at them, holding the door to the keep open with his back. The dragon landed on the wall in front of them. They ran inside and closed the door just as fire poured from its mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 4,047


	3. Chapter III — Unbound [Aela]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scars, spiders, and salvation.

The first thing she heard was Ralof’s breath.

He was standing behind her, hand still on the heavy door. If she leaned back, she would be able to rest her head against his shoulder. Aela squinted in the dark keep. There was little she could make out save for the labored breaths of her companions.

“Is that door actually going to hold back dragon fire?” Ahlam whispered in front of her.

“We shouldn’t stay and find out.” Kastus copied her quiet tone; he stood to Aela’s right.

“Let’s find some light first.” Ralof spoke normally, causing the company to jump. He placed his hand on Aela’s back and she took a hesitant step forward. Ahlam was no longer in front of her; Aela realized when she didn’t collide with anything. Kastus reached out in the dark and held her hand. Aela became nervous with the touch and slowly her hands became clammy.

“Sorry.” She said and pulled her hand away. Kastus seemed to move for a moment before she felt his hand on her bicep. They stood together in the dark and heard shuffling. “Ralof,” Aela called out in the dark; her voice shook as she was nervous of his absence.

There was no doubt in her mind that he could take care of himself. The war had proven that—he was seldom injured. But it was her own self she worried over; she was never strong in fighting. She could summon flames to spread in front of her but her stomach twisted in the thought of hurting instead of healing. The war had proven that too: Aela was an extraordinary healer.

Aela recalled the first time Ralof came into the healer’s tent. He and another soldier—Asgar, she remembered his flame-red hair—had brought in a profusely bleeding man. He had a slash wound across his stomach. She knew he wouldn’t survive but promised both men that she would do all she could.

By the time she was elbows deep in his blood, the soldier had passed. The tips of her hair were red and her face and neck were splattered with his blood. Ralof stumbled into the tent in the middle of the day to check up on him. Aela turned to look at him before slowing shaking her head.

Ralof stared at the body in the shadows. Aela remained mute and didn’t protest when he pulled the body onto his shoulder. Ralof alone, took the body out, silent in his grief. Aela didn’t know the fallen warrior’s name—in this line of work, she only knew after they left the tent, dead or alive—but knew him and Ralof had been close.

Aela did not know how he mourned, but he did not return to the healer’s tent for many moons. One day, he entered the tent, soaked in blood. He was a terrifying thing to behold. Blond hair come undone and was matted with blood. His face was marred with splatters and his blue eyes seemed unusually bright. She had stared at him; he flashed a toothy grin and appeared even more sinister.

“I am fine. This isn’t my blood.” Aela blinked at him and his smile did not quite reach his eyes. He turned back a bit to allow a man with a twisted arm into the tent. “I trust you’ll fix him.” Ralof disappeared with a wink. Aela set the wounded soldier’s arm with butterflies dancing in her stomach.

There was a spark of light to her left and the memory faded. Ralof cupped a piece of lit wood and lit any candle he could find. There was a bright flame on the right; Ahlam was making makeshift torches from her clothes. She frowned as the canvas took time to catch aflame. She glanced up at them.

“Do you two need both hands or can you hold a torch in one?” Kastus and Aela glanced at each other. Kastus stepped towards Ahlam, leaving Aela alone by the door.

“I usually wield a sword in one hand and magic in the other, but I can hold the torch.” Kastus stepped forward and accepted the burning light from Ahlam. Aela walked towards her.

“I have a free hand.” Wordlessly, Ahlam passed the torch. Her midriff was bare after the second torch. Ahlam pulled off the the remaining tunic and made another torch but did not light it.

Aela didn’t want to stare. _It’s rude_. The scarification along Ahlam’s chest, however, begged to be seen.

“You should see my back.” Ahlam said without looking up. Kastus and Ralof glanced at Ahlam in confusion before quickly turning their heads back. Aela crouched down and brought the torch closer to them. They seemed to be intricate marks and all on purpose. Aela reached out t touch it but Ahlam moved away from her. Aela dropped her hand.

“Who did this to you?” Aela whispered. Ahlam shrugged and stood up. Aela followed suit, taking care that the fire would not burn Ahlam.

“I did.” Aela gasped and took a step away her. “It was willingly. We’ve always done piercings, scarification, and tattoos for rites of passage. It isn't that strange to see. This was done for fertility.” Ahlam passed a hand over the raised skin. Aela watched as gooseflesh covered the woman’s torso and arms.

“Did…” Aela hesitated.

“Yes, it hurt.” Ahlam nodded. “But not as much as this.” Ahlam turned around and Aela gasped again. From her right shoulder down across her back to her hip was a huge scar. There were whip marks across her back as well. “The big scar comes from a man who tried to take this innocent girl as a slave. He took me instead after cutting me up. I didn’t fetch a good price.” Ahlam chuckled.

“And the scars?” Aela touched her back. It was slightly cool to the touch.

“That came from stealing from a nobleman’s house. He, too, punished me. Publicly. His daughter couldn't handle it. I was thirteen, I think.” Aela shook her head and placed her hand on her own heart.

“I am sorry.” Ahlam turned around and shrugged.

“Don’t be. HoonDing kept me alive and that’s more than enough for me.” Ahlam walked over to a locked chest and kicked it open. Aela stared in surprise. _How often does she kick them out_?

“Aela.” Ralof spoke quietly. “We should look for some supplies.” Aela walked to him and noticed his face was still flushed. She stole a glance at Kastus, who very pointedly, remained turned away from Ahlam. His skin was flushed too.

The four rummaged around the room mainly in a set of three and one. Ahlam found a set of fur armor which she quickly donned. It was for men, but she did her best to tie it tightly. She handed Kastus the other set. He changed in the corner.

The fur armor thankfully had a long-sleeved tunic and a vest made from leather. They had a skirt made from hide with a loose leather belt tied around their waist. Around their shoulders was a fox’s skin, bolstering their warmth. They had thick, wool stirrup leggings to keep their legs warm and feet protected. They both had found gauntlets to keep their hands warm.

Ahlam had found two waterskins and both wore them around their shoulders. The skins were empty but jostled along their hips. Ahlam tossed Kastus the fur boots, which surprisingly fit him.

“What about you?” Kastus asked. Ahlam shrugged.

“The boots are too big for me. Hopefully, if we make it out alive, I can find something that fits.” Kastus nodded. Aela was worried and hoped she would find something soon. _At least the leggings cover her feet_ …

“We should see if we can find some traveling bags.” Aela said. As though Talos was guiding her, the first chest she opened had four traveling bags and three cloaks. Isn’t that convenient? She thought to herself. She passed the bags and cloaks to the others before donning a pack herself.

Aela looked inside the chest once more and saw two small healing potions. She placed them inside her own bag thankful to have potions with her.

“Hey, a carrot!” Kastus exclaimed, pulling the vegetable from his bag. Ahlam made a face and reached out, but he already bit into it. He spat it out and tossed the carrot to the floor. “It’s gone bad.” Ahlam laughed loudly and even Ralof and Aela chuckled. Kastus rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“By Satakal, this goes on forever.” Ahlam muttered as she stuck her arm and fished for something.

“It’s why wanderers use these bags.” Ralof answered. Ahlam pulled out a green apple and took a bite of it. The juices dripped down her chin and judging by her features, she had never tasted anything more fulfilling. Aela felt her stomach rumble.

“Enjoying that apple?” Ralof raised a brow. Ahlam nodded and continued to wolf it down. Kastus rummaged in his bag once more and found a black leather book that only had a symbol of flames.

“Seems I have some reading to do. Hopefully a new Destruction spell.” Aela smiled and hoped whatever it was, it would grant him strength.

“May I read it with you?” Aela asked. Kastus nodded. After reading a spellbook, it was destroyed. Many mages read together so they could learn the spells without having to find a copy for themselves.

“We should get going.” Ahlam said, glancing at the door, hearing the dragon. They nodded and moved to the door. Aela frowned at seeing an unopened barrel. She walked to it and opened it.

“Come quickly!” She called them as she reached inside. Despite her height, it looked like she was going to topple right in and Ralof held her waist. She handed Ahlam and Kastus cured beef and hard cheeses. There were a bit of elk jerky that she passed them as well. Ahlam carried the food for the group.

Ralof walked to the portcullis and after a moment of straining, the door began to rise. They pulled out their weapons: Ralof with his war axe; Kastus with his sword, Aela with flames and lastly, Ahlam with a bow.

“Wait. Let me scout ahead.” Ahlam crouched down and tip-toed down the stairs. She held three iron arrows in her right hand and a fourth was notched in her hand. Aela wondered if Ahlam was used to carrying more than one quiver.

“How did you guys make it out alive?” Kastus inclined his head towards Aela, but she shook her head.

“That’s a secret you’ll have to ask Ahlam.” Kastus frowned before nodding once.  At that moment, Ahlam came back, jogging. Her mouth was set in a line and she was still crouched down slightly.

“Down the stairs and to the right, there is an open area. Saw a door that we can use to get out. But…” She paused, frowning. “There are Imperial guards. At least three of them. And the Captain is with them. She spoke of trying to find us and I quote, “skin them alive even if they beg for mercy.” I like my skin—think it’s a very beautiful color—so I’ll shoot her.” Ahlam twirled her arrow and looked up at the company with a hard glare. Ralof shook his head.

“It’s too dangerous to kill her yourself, Ahlam. What if—”

“She is going to have this arrow in her head, whether we both walk out or not. Maybe if she dies first, the guards might let us go. If not, we’ll kill them.” She said simply. Aela was startled at her harshness. Still, she noticed something else in the Redguard’s eyes, something akin to sadness. She doesn’t want to do this, Aela realized.

“We’ll do what we can to negotiate with the others but put an arrow though that her heart.” Aela placed a hand on Ahlam’s shoulder in agreement. Ahlam placed a hand over Aela’s and smiled at her. Kastus sighed and Ralof glanced worriedly at the door.

“Be careful, please.” Ralof said. The dragon roared and the keep shook. “And be quick; that dragon wants to eat us.” Ahlam chuckled and led them down the stairs. They crouched down and stepped quietly. Kastus was warm by Aela side; Aela watched a bead of sweat trickle down Ralof’s neck as he readjusted the grip on his war axe. She tightened her grip on the torch and wanted the fire swirl in her hands. _At a time like this, I wished I had read more Destruction spells._

Ahlam held up her hand and the company grew still. She inhaled and seemed to melt into the walls. Aela watched her draw her bow and point the arrow at the Imperial Captain. The woman was bent over a table, studying a map. Ahlam exhaled and the arrow flew. In that moment, a guard called her and the Captain turned her head. The arrow struck the wall, shattering. Ahlam cursed.

The Captain shouted for her men to find the archer. Ahlam motioned for them to walk backwards up the steps. They did their best to quietly retreat. The guards stepped close to Ahlam—Aela opened her mouth to warn her—but they turned back around after a moment. Ahlam nodded once. Kastus shifted and Ralof held his sword tighter. Aela flexed her fingers and hoped that she wouldn’t have to burn anyone.

“Now!” Ralof yelled and charged after Ahlam. Kastus ran—albeit without yelling. Aela took one step forward and felt herself shake. The thought of murdering someone churned her stomach. _I set bones, I mend people; I do not kill them_. She felt woozy, hearing the sounds of a fight and sat down on the steps. The fire in her hands fizzled out. She distinctly heard a bone break, and a man scream. She clutched her head and listened to the yell turn into a gurgling mess. Aela put her head in between her knees and breathed deeply.

 _A meadow. Lavender everywhere. A handsome Breton, smiling and placing her on his shoulders. A woman with long platinum-blonde hair handing her rolls filled with cheese. Another Nord, bigger, dark-haired with a small beard._ He looks just like his father _. A blue butterfly lands on his nose. He laughs. Joy fills her heart and she says—_

“Aela! I need you!” Ahlam yelled and Aela blinked away the memory. Hurrying down the stairs, she saw broken bodies and Ahlam, leaning against the wall. She clutched her right bicep, which was covered in blood. Her bow was in her right hand, lax and blood dripped on the wood. Aela blinked before stepping towards her.

“Move your arm.” Aela placed the torch in a holder behind Ahlam’s head. Aela summoned a basic healing spell. Ahlam moved her arm away and Aela was thankful the wound wasn’t deep. _The blood must’ve been from the others_. Aela knew that the skin wouldn’t seal perfectly, leaving a small scar.

Aela held Ahlam’s arm with her two hands and poured warmth and love into the injury. The wound slowly healed and Ahlam relaxed against the wall, bow slipping from her hand. It clattered to the floor at their feet. Kastus and Ralof moved bodies of the soldiers as Aela worked.

“We found some gold.” Kastus held up a few coins and Ahlam barely opened her eyes to acknowledge him. Aela stepped back to look at her handiwork. The scar was smaller than she thought. Ahlam stretched her arm gently before noticing the scar. She smiled at it and thumbed it with her left hand.

“Why are you smiling at a scar?” Poor healers left behind scars.

“Because it is proof that I’ve survived.” Ahlam smiled at her and Aela stared in surprise.

“Ahlam, if you wanna try on their boots?” Kastus gestured to the bodies. Ahlam walked to him and pulled off their fur boots, trying them bit by bit. Finding a pair that fit her, she glanced at the young man’s armor.

“I’ll take his things as well,” Ahlam began to search the body. Aela began to search around the room for cloth. Ralof and Kastus looked around the room as well to see if they could find anything. They found a key to the door and unlocked it.

“Ah ha!” They turned to see Ahlam holding a small coin purse of Septims. “Thank you, good sir.” She mockingly bowed to the dead body before looking down at him in sorrow. She kneeled in front of him and whispered something before kissing his mouth. The three stared at her. She looked up and blinked at them. “I wished him to find his place in Aetherius.”

At that, Ahlam had stripped the three guards of everything leaving only their small clothes for decency. She bundled the clothes into a ball and shoved them into her pack.

“Aren’t you going to change armor?” Aela asked. Ahlam shook her head.

“In case you can’t tell, Skyrim is cold. The fur will keep me warmer.” Aela shrugged. As a Nord, she didn’t notice the cold winds of Skyrim like outsiders. They walked through the newly opened door with Ralof leading the way. Down a fight of steps and there was a long hallway. Imperials drew their weapons and began to ran at them. Everyone pulled out their weapons, but then the dragon roared. The keep shook and the ceiling caved in, killing the Imperials.

“Dammit!” Ahlam cried, holding onto Kastus. Ralof held Aela tightly to his chest as the keep shook. When the dust settled, they saw that there was no way in front of them. Kastus, however, pointed at a door to the left of them. Ralof untangled himself from Aela and placed a finger on his lips. He crouched down and opened the door slowly.

Ahlam walked behind him with Kastus following. Aela stayed outside the door. _They were going to kill men and women who had families; I can’t do that_.

Ahlam notched an arrow, Kastus steadied his sword and Ralof stepped inside the storeroom. Aela realized she had forgotten the torch in the previous room. She listened to the fighting—the Legion soldiers were torn to pieces. One young woman cried out for her mother before being silenced. Aela closed her eyes and wondered who delivered the blow.

Soon, the room was filled with idle chatter between the three of them. Aela stepped into the room and wondered how they could speak so calmly about potions despite being covered in blood and stepping around the dead people. People who had lives and parents and lovers.

Aela watched Ahlam step onto a chair, cutting off dried elves ear, frost mirriam, and garlic that hung from the ceiling. She watched her pull down a pheasant and two rabbit for them to eat. She watched Ahlam search around for a blank alchemist’s journal that lay nearby before she ate the three herbs she collected. Ahlam began to sketch in the journal. Kastus was rummaging through the fallen soldiers pockets while Ralof changed his weapon to a sharper steel sword.

Realizing she was shaking, Aela sat down in a chair and stared at the wooden pattern of the table. A few grains of salt were on the table as well as candles that burned low.

“What day is it?” Ahlam asked, tapping the pencil to her lips. Aela didn’t look up.

“The seventeenth of Last Seed.” Ralof replied. He walked over to Aela and placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and immediately, Ralof withdrew his hand. He sat in front of her, a frown on his handsome face. “What’s wrong, Aela?” She shook her head. Ralof smiled sadly and held out his hand across the table. She stared at the blood on his hands, the dirt in his nails. These were the same hands that helped her wash bloody rags in the river and touched her gently despite the callouses. _How could they be full of love but also death_?

“It’s kill or be killed, Aela.” Ahlam said, walking over. Aela looked up at her; she gave a small, sympathetic smile. Ahlam touched Aela’s shoulder. “It’s hard at first, dealing with death in this way. You are a priestess of Tava. You heal people; you mend them and make sure they don’t die. We’re doing the exact opposite.” Ahlam laughed. “Maybe it is different in Aetherius. There may be peace there. But not here.” Ahlam picked up a sword from one of the fallen men. Kastus walked towards Aela.

“It is a hard life to lead. However, once we escape, you never have to pick up a blade or spell again again. But for now, Aela, you must fight. You have to survive.” Kastus and Ahlam walked to the door without waiting for a response. Ralof watched her closely. Finally, she nodded and Ralof broke into a grin. Her heart surged at seeing him.

Ralof held her hand as they walked to the door. Ahlam glanced at them and frowned. “What’s with you two?” Aela blushed and Ralof blinked. They withdrew their hands from each other and pointedly looked away. Ahlam glanced at Kastus who looked at her before shrugging.

“We, uh…” Ralof cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, catching his braids. “We’re engaged.” Ahlam widened her eyes and nodded once.

“Congratulations!” Kastus beamed at them. Aela chuckled nervously and Ralof smiled sheepishly.

“Indeed, congratulations. We can celebrate after we get out.” They began to walk down another flight of steps and an empty hallway. They turned the corner and began walking down another flight of stairs. There was light in the room bellow. Aela wrinkled her nose.

“What’s that smell?” Aela asked. Ralof held her back.

“Oh Gods. It’s a torture room. Come on!” Ralof cried out for Ahlam and Kastus to follow. Wanting to help, Aela ran down the steps. She watched they slaughter the Imperial torturer and his apprentice.  Aela did not have to look far to see other Stormcloaks laying about on the floor in impossible angles. “Damn, we came too late.” Aela closed her eyes. _May you reach Sovengarde, brothers and sisters_.

“Anyone have any lockpicks?” Ahlam asked. She was bent over a cage with a dead mage. Ralof blinked before he and Kastus began to look around. Aela found two which she handed Ahlam and Kastus and Ralof found four between them. Ralof gave them all to Kastus, explaining he had no need for them.

Ahlam gestured for Kastus to try his hand. He grumbled but attempted to open the door. Aela watched him struggle with fascination; she had never seen anyone pick a lock before. He broke two of his lockpicks before Ahlam sighed and pushed him aside. With a twirl of her hands, the old door squeaked opened. Ahlam bowed in front of them. Aela chuckled.

“What was that, some magic trick?” Ralof asked, standing beside Aela. His arms were crossed and his brows were furrowed.

“More like demon magic,” Kastus muttered. Ahlam clicked her tongue and barred him passage into the cage.

“I don’t do magic, Kastus. Watch your tongue.” Ahlam stepped into cage and tossed the book at Kastus. It struck him squarely in the chest before falling into his hands. Ahlam began to loot the gold from the floor and the coin purse on the mage. “Aela, you have the potions, right?” Aela nodded and stepped forward with her bag open. Through one of the open squares in the lattice work, Ahlam handed her potions. Aela listened to the bottles clinking against each other.

“Aela, come here a moment.” Kastus called and she left Ahlam’s side. In Kastus’s hands was the book Ahlam had tossed him: a Destruction spell called Sparks. It was a basic lightning spell. Standing in the middle of the torture room, they began to read. Sparks would damage a person’s health and their magicka at the same time. It didn’t take long before the book glowed in their hands and disappeared.

Ahlam stepped out of the cage with the mage robes folded in her arms. Staring at the dead body, Aela placed her hand out. She thought of the storms she would watch from the safety of her home, back in Mixwater Mill. She heard the thunder rumbling in her ears and saw the dark sky. She reached for the purple lightning and then—

“By Satakal!” Ahlam jumped. The dead mage had branching lightning across his torso that glowed purple before fading. “Di-did you just do that?” Ahlam asked, staring at Aela. She laughed, nodding. 

_I can fight too_.

“Can you do the same?” Ahlam glanced at Kastus. He smirked and extended his hand palm facing the mage without breaking eye contact with Ahlam. Aela watched the spell fly from his open palm and sever the arm of the mage. Aela gasped in shock; Kastus paled; and Ahlam stared.

“I did not mean to do that.” He said, sounding guilty.

“Remind me to not get you upset.” Ahlam said quietly. Kastus nodded once. Ralof whistled and that’s when Aela realized he had not been standing with her for some time. They followed him towards other cell. Kastus tried his luck on empty cells, breaking another lockpick in the process. Ahlam, grinning like a cat, used a single lockpick to open a door with a skeleton and a fat coin purse. She placed the gold in her bag and Aela wondered when Kastus and Ahlam had begun to compete for gold.

As the group continued forward, they came across a drawbridge. Ralof pushed the lever and the bridge came down. They calmly walked across. Aela peered up and saw the bright light of the outside world but the formation of the cave covered the sun. They passed through the bridge safely and walked down three stairs when the dragon roared once again.

It was so loud, Aela was sure it was right above them. The keep shook and down came the boulders, breaking the bridge and blocking their path. Ahlam, Kastus, and Aela stared wide-eyed at the broken bridge. Ralof sighed and twirled his sword. 

“Come on. We can’t go back that way.” They continued down and followed the natural path of the cave. There walked down a slope followed by a corner. A large area opened up. There was a waterfall with a large pond. They sighed in relief at the newfound peace.

Ahlam immediately lay by the pond and began to greedily drink the water. Kastus followed suit. Ralof laughed heartily before dragging Aela to the other side of the to drink. Aela kneeled in front of the water. “Oh, Kynareth, hear my plea. Make this water safe for us to drink. We thank you for your sacrifice and love. Blessings to you, Warrior-Wife. May you always guide our steps.” Aela mumbled before letting her lips touch the cold water.

Aela didn’t realize how thirsty she was until she drank. She cupped the water in her hands over and over, letting the water fall onto her robes. Ahlam was sitting on her haunches, filling her waterskin with Kastus and Ralof was searching in Ahlam’s bag for food. Aela finally dropped her hands and just breathed.

“Do you always pray before drinking water?” Ahlam asked from across the water. She was still bloody and looked even more frightening with the blood upon her face.

“I do when I don’t know where the water comes from.” Ahlam nodded. _Odd. I thought she would have laughed at me._

“After all the fighting, I’m going to bathe. Come join me. We can send the men around the corner.” Aela glanced back to see Kastus and Ralof chatting amiably. Ralof had cut some cheese and held them on his palm for Kastus. He thanked him and ate. Aela turned back to Ahlam.

“That sounds wonderful.” Ahlam smiled and walked over to the two men. Aela watched them interact. Ahlam pointed to the slope and the men nodded. Kastus gestured to the waterfall with his chin and Ahlam placed a firm hand on his shoulder before nodding. With that, Ralof and Kastus took some more cheese and headed up the steps.

“What they say?” Aela asked upon her return. Ahlam began to undress. Aela hesitantly followed.

“Kastus wants to bathe too. I told him after we go.” Aela nodded and stepped into the deep water. Ahlam walked to the waterfall and stood underneath it, letting it beat at her skin. Aela couldn’t help her wandering gaze. Ahlam’s skin was a rich bronze and her hair was as dark as the Void. The scars along her chest seem to fade and ripple with the water rushing over her head. Aela was surprised by the smoothness of her skin—she had heard Redguards had a lot of body hair, both men and women. She noticed a few scratches along her thigh. _Angry lovers_? Aela wondered. As she neared, she took note of a crudely healed burn upon her hip.

Ahlam stepped out of from under the waterfall and submerged herself into the open area where Aela was. Aela was busy scrubbing the soot from her skin.

“Where’d you get that?” Aela pointed to her hidden hip. Ahlam looked into the water at her distorted features and titled her head.

“Get what?”

“The burn on your hip.” Ahlam pursed her lips in thought.

“I don’t remember. I fell into a fire pit?” Ahlam said as though asking Aela.

“How does one fall into a fire pit and not remember?” Ahlam laughed. The paint along Ahlam’s face curled into a smile and terrified Aela. The war paint, which did not move as Ahlam poured water over her face, looked like a skull with a circlet. It scared Aela.

Aela untied her hair and submerged herself completely, letting the dirt from the day escape her. She came up to see Ahlam leaned back to wash her own hair. “I can’t wait to actually bathe and use soap.” Aela laughed and agreed. Finding herself mostly clean, Aela stepped out of the water and used a small flame spell to dry her body and hair. The water splashed behind her and she saw Ahlam wring her hair out.

“Does everyone use magic to dry themselves?” Ahlam asked, head titled.

“No, it’s just faster. May I?” Aela asked, stepping towards Ahlam. She grew still but allowed the warm spell to spill over her body, drying her and bringing her body temperature back up. Ahlam nodded her thanks and dressed silently in the fur armor. Aela asked to wear the mage robes Ahlam had packed. Despite being on a decaying corpse, they did not smell; Aela was thankful. The robes were indeed big, but it would keep her warm and out of sights from Imperials.

“I’ll get the other two.” Ahlam said before jogging off, leaving Aela alone. She walked around the open area and found a large boulder some ways away that would allow Ahlam and herself a place to eat while the men bathed. Ahlam reappeared and Aela showed her the place as the men began to strip. Aela started a fire and Ahlam pulled out some of the food. She eyed the elk jerky suspiciously.

“Haven’t had elk?” Ahlam shook her head. “Oh! You must try it.” Ahlam stared at the meat as though having a staring contest with it. Eventually, she opened her mouth and took a small bite. Aela watched her eyes widen and she began to laugh as Ahlam took a much larger bite. They ate some cheese and jerky, washing it down with water.

“Have you guys seen a hairtie?” Kastus walked over in nothing but his small clothes. Aela gave a shriek and covered her eyes. Ahlam laughed.

“Brown, made from leather?” Ahlam asked. Aela did her best to stare at Kastus’s bare feet. She watched the water pool around him and the drops from his hair and body fall like rain. He curled his toes as though tense.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Here. Thought it might’ve been one of the soldiers.” Ahlam held out her hand. Kastus took it and walked off. Aela looked back up and saw Ahlam staring fondly at Kastus. “There is something beautiful about a man dripping with water.” Ahlam muttered. Aela titled her head in confusion but said nothing. Ahlam did not elaborate.

Aela glanced over to see Kastus drying Ralof and himself simultaneously with fire. Aela and Ahlam refilled the waterskins. “Are you guys hungry? Should we take a break?” Aela asked, staring more at Ralof than Kastus. Ralof shook his head.

“No, we should head off. Shouldn’t delay any more.” Aela nodded and Ralof took charge once more. As they began walking, Ahlam pointed to Kastus.

“You have a bit of red left on you.” Kastus frowned and touched his cheek. “Oh. It’s a tattoo.” Ahlam realised when the marking did not move. Kastus laughed and shook his head.

“This? No, it’s just paint. It doesn’t move because of magic. What about you? You have quite the scary paint, all white and it covers your face!” Ahlam shook her head this time.

“ _This_ is a tattoo.” Ahlam pointed at her face. “And what about you?” She turned to Aela. “Is yours just war paint?”

“Yes. I have to put it on every morning, but it gives us the freedom to change it.” Ahlam made a sound of disapproval and caught up to Ralof. Aela titled her head and looked at Kastus.

“Was it something I said?” Kastus shrugged.

“Redguards are different than us, you know that. Still,” he dreamily sighed as he looked at Ahlam. “There is something so fascinating and beautiful about them, don’t you think?” Aela looked at Kastus in surprise before turning her gaze to Ahlam. Indeed, she was beautiful. Her beauty was different from the farmers Aela grew up with, but she accepted beauty in any form. She smiled softly. “See, I knew you’d come around.” Kastus said.

Aela blushed, caught in admiring someone else. “It’s not like that!” She put her hands on Kastus and shook her head. He laughed and smiled at her.

“I know it isn’t.” An air of pleasant seriousness fell around them and they stared at each other, happy in the company they shared.

“Come on, slowpokes!” Ahlam called, breaking them from their trance. They jogged to catch up to their companions.  “Tell me, do your people not pierce?” Kastus glanced at Aela before speaking.

“We occasionally do, but not as often.” Aela nodded.

“It’s a bit rare to see Nords with piercings, but we often wear heavy jewelry.” Ahlam nodded and pursed her lips slightly.

“I can accept that.”

“What all do you have pierced, Ahlam?” Aela asked. “I noticed your hoop in your nose. Is that it?” Ahlam scoffed and held up her thick hair.

“Hardly.” Aela spotted two golden hoops in her lobes and another hoop in her helix. Aela saw three small studs in the shape of flowers at her forward helix. “Everything is even except for my nose.” Ahlam let her hair fall down. Kastus and Aela glanced at each other in confusion and even Ralof forwned. Ahlam sighed. “Split your body in half, long ways.” She moved her hand through her face, down in between her breasts, and through her stomach. “Now, as you pierce once side, you must have another piercing on the other side to be ‘even.’ My nose is the only thing on the left side so I am left-heavy. Does that make more sense?” They nodded slowly.

“Are you going to get something else to make it even?” Kastus asked. Ahlam placed a finger on her cheek and tapped it gently, thinking.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of getting my septum pierced for my birthday, but that’s two months away, so I can decide then.”

“Septum?” Aela asked. Ahlam placed her index and middle finger inside her nostrils, making a bull’s ring. “I’m sure an alchemist or a doctor could do it for you.” Aela suggested, but Ahlam shook her head.

“It has to be someone of some importance. Either an Elder or a priest. But it could also be a dear friend of mine.”

“One of us could do it.” Kastus suggested. Ahlam laughed.

“As much as I trust you three, I don’t trust you. Come on. We’ve wasted enough time.” The walls of the cave began to narrow, reducing them down to following one another in an line. Ralof lead as Kastus brought up the rear, trapping the two women between them. As the cave expanded again, they breathed in relief. Ahlam pointed with her bow. Aela frowned and followed the line of her arm and bow with her eyes.

Spiderwebs. Behind Aela, Kastus muttered something. Aela turned to see him staring up wide-eyed at the webs.

“Don’t like spiders?” She whispered and leaned into him. He shook his head. He clutched his sword and torch tightly. Aela smiled and placed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I don’t like them either. Let’s not say anything though; Ahlam will make fun of us.” Kastus chuckled softly and nodded.

Three spiders paced around the room. Ahlam was already crouched with an arrow drawn. Ralof had followed Ahlam and crouched down, staying out of sight. He held his war axe by his waist. Kastus and Aela remained behind them in the cover of rocks. Ahlam turned around and say something to Ralof. He laughed and Aela felt her stomach twist.

Channeling her jealousy, Sparks came into her hands easily. It sizzled and burned in the air writhing like an angry lover. _Spiders are different than people. I can do this._ Two spiders fell from the sky when Ahlam released her arrow.

“Fucking Void!” Ahlam cursed. Ralof laughed and the two of them charged into battle.

“Are you kidding me?” Kastus muttered, glancing at Aela. The two of them fought off two of the smaller spiders while Ahlam shot at one of the bigger ones. Ralof was left to grapple with the other two large spiders. Aela knew he would need help, but she was too busy trying to cause the spider in front of her to burst.

Out of worry, Aela glanced over to Ahlam and Ralof. Aela noticed Ahlam’s fluidity in changing two weapons, back and forth from a dagger to bow. She relied more on her bow, Aela could tell, but she didn’t understand where Ahlam had found the dagger. _Perhaps one of the fallen soldiers_?

The two spiders lay dead at their feet when Kastus moved to help Ralof. “Hey, Kastus! I haven’t seen anyone shake like a leaf when fighting a spider. You sure you aren’t a Wood Elf?” Ahlam called out, taunting him. Kastus gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to retort. One of the large spiders had turned its attention on Kastus and shot poison into his open mouth, catching him off guard. He pulled away in shock.

Aela watched shock and then rage form on Ahlam’s face. Arrow after arrow, she loosened on the spider before finally one arrow struck it in between the eyes. As Aela watched this, she turned to see Ralof struggling with the last spider. Before it could inhale, Aela sent a shockwave of Sparks, killing the creature. Ralof was bringing down his sword and it lay in half.

“To be on the safe side.” He explained more to the dead spider than the others. Ahlam ran over to Kastus, who was already sitting on a rock. He spat out the green poison and gagged slightly. Aela kneeled in front of him. Ralof jogged over to help in what way he could.

“Shit, Kastus. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me. Don’t die on us.” Ahlam’s voice wavered slightly and her eyes were wide with worry. Aela was surprised to see the response. Kastus waved her off.

“Cease your whining, woman. I’m fine.” He smirked at her and Ahlam laughed, relieved. He opened his mouth and Aela peered inside.

“The poison won’t affect you that strongly. I’m surprised. Still, take this.” She searched in her bag for a dark pink bottle with a tag that read “Cure Poison.” It would slow down the affects until he was healed once more. Kastus drank from the bottle and handed her the empty bottle once more. She tossed it behind her where it shattered. Ahlam flinched from the sound and Ralof placed his hand on her back to steady her. She nodded in thanks.

 _Stop it_ , _Aela_. _There is no reason to be jealous_. _He is yours_. _Don’t do this to yourself_. Aela handed Kastus another bottle, this time bright pink in color. “Don’t drink this yet. Count to a hundred first and then drink. You should feel better after drinking this one. If not, tell me straight away.” Kastus nodded and pocketed the bottle.

“Thank you, Aela.” She nodded and he stood.

“It is my duty, Kastus.” She turned to Ahlam and Ralof, letting her gaze linger on the small scar on his cheek. He and a boy from Riverwood—his only friend—were playing in the streets when he fell. The rock barely scarred his face, but it was there if one knew where to look. “And you two are well?” They both glanced at each other before nodding.

Ralof had found the path that continued through the cave. Ahlam disappeared for a moment before reappearing with hands sticky from spiderwebs and who knows what else. Aela eyed her wearily.

“You don’t wanna know.” Ahlam said before popping what appeared to be a spider egg in her mouth. It crunched in between her teeth. Kastus visibly shuddered and Ralof turned his head very slowly but Aela did not turn to see Ahlam. Instead, Aela rushed down the path and became the leader. Kastus followed her. The spiderwebs began to fade away until none existed in the cave. They came across a stream which Aela inferred came from the same open area where they had bathed.

They continued on and followed a small natural bridge over the stream. Light streamed from above the ceiling of the cave. Plants were lush here and the air tasted sweeter. Aela smiled and followed the sun’s rays down to a sleeping bear. It was slowly being heated by the sun, making her sleepy. Aela held still and glanced to the others.

Ahlam had withdrawn her bow, but Ralof placed a hand gently on hers, lowering the bow. Aela felt her heart drop and fall into the stream; it rushed away never to be seen.

“Hang on. We shouldn’t tangle with her right now. Let’s just sneak by her. You’re good at that.” Ralof winked at Ahlam. She smirked and nodded. “Oh, I found another quiver a while back and meant to give it to you.” He whispered as he handed her another leather quiver. She thanked him and attached the quiver to her hip. Ahlam peered around the room and noticed a coin purse in a cart full of cabbages. She grinned and grabbed it.

“I vote that we sneak,” Ahlam said. Aela nodded immediately. Fighting a bear would be death-inducing.

“I agree.” Kastus said. Ahlam nodded once more and pointed with her bow to the end of the cave.

“You and Aela go first. If the bear awakens, I can distract it long enough for you to run away.” Kastus frowned and shook his head.

“Why would you risk your life like that?” He asked, confused. Ahlam smiled at him. _She may not be a coward_ , _but she’s not one to throw her life away so easily_. _What gives_? Aela was just as confused.

“No, Ahlam. I won’t let you do that.” Ralof held Ahlam’s gaze. She chuckled—glancing back at the bear to make sure she hadn’t awoken—and placed her hand on Ralof’s cheek. Aela felt her stomach twist like a wet rag.

“I’m stronger than you think. But we won’t have to fight at all if you guys can sneak past her.” Ralof nodded and Ahlam pulled her hand away.

Kastus went first, claiming his half elf-blood would keep him quiet. It seemed to be true for the bear still snored. Ralof only went next from the women’s persisting. He glanced back, wearily many times. Ahlam held Aela’s hand as he passed. When he was safe, they both exhaled in relief. Ahlam showed her a different path that would be less quiet but would be far quicker.

“Are you sure?” Aela whispered behind the rock. Ahlam nodded once.

“As long as you don’t create too much noise, it should be fine. It would be best to get out of here quickly.” With that, Aela nodded and headed down the path that had greenery. It was further from the bear, but Ahlam was right: it was louder with the grass moving. As she moved, Aela didn’t feel the rock until too late. She lost her footing and fell to the ground.

At the sound of the thud, the bear stood. It peered about as though to investigate the sound. Instantly, Ahlam had an arrow notched and pointed. Aela held her breath and watched. Ahlam inhaled and focused her breathing. For a moment, only the sounds of the water streaming down could be heard. Aela felt like her heartbeat, flooding in her own ears, was smothered and quiet.

After a long minute, the bear stretched, curled herself up, and went back to sleep. There was a small sound heard over the water, one of relief. Aela crawled through the grass towards Ralof. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up into him. She clutched onto him for dear life.

Ahlam was on Aela’s heels, rolling towards her. She stopped at the feet of Ralof, who held Aela. Ahlam unfurled herself slowly like a cat and grinned up at them. Kastus helped her up and she thanked him, dusting herself off. Her fur armor was slightly crooked.

“Where did you learn that?” Ralof asked, intrigued. He set Aela down.

“A good thief never tells her secrets.” Ahlam winked, causing Ralof to blush and rub the back of his neck. Aela glanced at Ralof. He was pointedly not looking at her. _Surely, this is simple flirting. It’s only because he’s so handsome and he wouldn’t_ …

Aela shook off her thoughts and began to follow Ahlam and Ralof out of the cave. Kastus was a silent guardian beside her. Her thoughts began to consume her in the silence. _Right foot, left foot. Come now, you can do this_. They walked down a steep hill before following the cave’s natural veer to the left. Kastus glanced at her more than once. Out of worry? Aela couldn’t tell.

Finally, light poured into the dark cave and Aela exhaled in relief. They were at the end.  Ralof sprinted ahead and Ahlam was at his heels just as agree to escape. _Good_. _This means she will leave and_ —Aela stopped herself. She was being unnecessarily cruel to someone who had saved her.

Kastus had jogged up the hill to the light, but stopped after noticing that Aela still remained at the bottom.

“Aela?” He called out, tilting his head down at her. Aela noticed how handsome he was with the light illuminating him from behind. He looked like a god. Her head hurt. Her muscles felt twisted and she only thought in yells and screams.

None of it made sense. She blamed Ahlam; she blamed the dragon. She blamed Ralof. _Everything—my family, my love, my home—is being threatened_. Aela shook her head slightly. _Talos, guide me._

“Fine. I’m fine. Just…overwhelmed.” Kastus smiled and walked down the hill to her. He extended his hand.

“I understand. We’ve had a long day. But we’re finally free.” She hesitated for a moment before taking it. Together, they walked out of the cave and breathed in the fresh, crisp air of Skyrim. They were free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 8,019


	4. Chapter IV — Riverwood [Ahlam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally at Riverwood. Ahlam knows things she isn't willing to share.

Upon leaving the cave, the first thing Ahlam did was yell.

The group flinched at the sound, turning to her in surprise. Ralof bounded to her and covered her mouth with his hand. She glared at him but closed her chapped lips against his calloused hand.

“Learn to keep your mouth shut. That dragon—” He stopped mid-sentence and pulled her against him towards a rock. Kastus and Aela, following his lead, hid behind a shorter rock, one covered by the trees. The dragon roared lowly, sounding bored, and flew northward. Ralof squeezed Ahlam to him and she squirmed against him. As soon as the dragon disappeared, he sighed and reclined against the rock.

Ahlam moved away from and stood at the entrance of the cave. Aela and Kastus came out of their hiding spot. Ralof glanced worriedly at the sky before moving to them.

“Is it heading to…?” Aela questioned, trailing off. Ralof nodded.

“That dragon looks like it’s heading to Whiterun. We should hurry and get to Riverwood. We’ll be safe there.” They began walking, Ralof and Ahlam taking the lead while Kastus and Aela walked behind them.

Ahlam turned to Ralof and began asking him questions about the war between the Stormcloaks and the Empire. She thought of her own people’s fight for independence and hoped Skyrim would become it’s own nation. Ralof mentioned more than once the White-Gold Concordat, the treaty signed at the end of the Great War, and how they fought to allow Talos to be worshipped. Ahlam agreed with him that it was wrong to banish a god’s worship.

“Even though we are of different faiths, I would never want you to convert or give up your gods to entertain the idea of mine.” Ralof smiled and thanked her. Her questions turned to basic life in Skyrim and how the land was divided. “Is it in provinces or…”

“We call them Holds. There are nine of them.” Ralof drew a rough map of Skyrim in the air and began sectioning it off.  “So if we start in the northwest corner, you have Haafingar. It’s capital is Solitude, which is the capital of all of Skyrim. Close by in the north is Hjaalmarch and the capital is Morthal. If you go eastwards, you’ll find the Pale with Dawnstar being the capital. And finally, in the eastern most corner you have Winterhold, both the Hold and the capital’s name.

“If you’re here, you’ll be in The Reach.” Ralof brought his hand under Haafingar. “Markarth is the capital and it’s my least favourite city. Dwemer,” Ralof explained after Ahlam’s puzzled expression. “Continuing eastward, you have Whiterun—again, the Hold and the capital share names. It’s in the very centre of Skyrim. Then you have Eastmarch in the east. The Dunmeth Pass, the only way to and from Morrowind, is there. At the very top of Eastmarch is Windhelm.

“Lost ya yet?” Ahlam shook her head.

“Where is Helgen?” She asked. Ralof moved his arm to the southern part of the map where they hadn’t touched.

“In the Falkreath Hold. Capital is Falkreath. To the far east in the south is the Rift. Riften is the capital and home of the Thieves Guild. Sadly, I’ve heard they hit a rough patch.” Ahlam frowned at the news.

“What happened to the Thieves Guild?” Ralof shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m sure the townsfolk of Riften know better. I just heard their luck’s run dry.” Ahlam made a small sound of sadness. “You said you come from Cyrodiil, right?” Ahlam shook her head.

“No, I was born and raised in Rihad in Hammerfell. My father’s family and friends raised me mainly as my father died when I was about ten.” Ralof muttered his condolences; she squeezed his arm in thanks. “My mother, on the other hand, is an Imperial noblewoman. She lives in the Imperial City. I occasionally visit her, but I try to avoid it as we don’t get along.” Ralof nodded, following the tale intensely.

“Go on.” He replied shortly, taking her by surprise. The pause wasn’t long enough to interrupt their flow of conversation.

“I had just left her before I was captured. It’s funny. I only visit her because I love how different the Imperial City is from Rihad. The history and culture of Cyrodiil is vastly different from Hammerfell. I do not love it more, however. My Yoku blood is thick and strong. Hammerfell is my home before Cyrodiil.

“The only downside to being a Redguard is no one trusts you to be more than a sailor or a sellsword. Or, if you’re a woman, just an exotic flower to fuck.” Ralof winced. “Sorry, that was probably a bit much.” He shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. Keep going.” Ahlam nodded and thought some more.

“Let’s see…since I’m half-bred, when I claim my more “pure” blood, the Imperial blood, I get what I want. Men and women line up to know what the “noblewoman” wants.” Ahlam rolled her eyes before grinning at Ralof. He flushed and glanced away. Ahlam frowned and watched him in slight confusion. _He was fine a moment ago_. Ahlam turned to see how far Aela and Katus lagged behind. Thankfully, they were close at hand; they conversed deeply about something, completely absorbed in their company.

“I’ve talked your ear off, dear Ralof. Continue telling me about Skyrim.” Ahlam said and waited. Ralof cleared his throat and began to think. He started telling her about Nords and the similarities between Redguards and Nords. One thing he mentioned was their stubbornness. Ahlam laughed, telling him that Redguards had it in spades.

Ralof explained that their stubbornness was the main cause of the war. Ahlam was surprised to hear this. Ralof told her that most Nords were farmers, including himself and the war was only making things difficult for everyone involved. Ralof talked about Nords distrust of elves and magic and how the divide became worse because of the civil war.

“What about Aela?” Ahlam asked. She was a Nord healer; she was one to use magic. Ralof glanced back before shrugging.

“We make exceptions for healers?” He shrugged, unsure of himself. Ahlam laughed. The wind blew and the trees spoke to each other. Three butterflies chased after one another and a lone bunny hopped across their path. Ahlam listened to the beauty before asking Ralof another question.

“I was born a little before the signing of the Concordat. What was that change like? From fighting the Dominion to fighting the Empire?” Ralof sighed and tugged at one of his braids.

“It was awful. The Empire, they helped us once…but after the Emperor signed the Concordat…” Ralof grew silent, lost in his memories. Ahlam waited. “All we want is our independence, Ahlam.” She nodded, understanding.

“As did my people. The Empire could’ve pushed back the Aldmeri Dominion, but the Emperor was weak. He should’ve been there for us.” Ahlam shook her head. “We struggled for some time to prosper. We had little but out freedom while I was growing up.”

“At least you have your freedom.” Ralof whispered and stilled her with his gaze. She parted her dry lips and stared at his blue eyes—not at all like the cold, icy blue of Aela’s eyes. In his eyes, there was warmth and passion. But most of all, there was depth. This was no ordinary man and Ahlam knew without a doubt that Ulfric Stormcloak had chosen him as his second in command. And if he hadn’t, well, the Jarl was a damned fool.

Ahlam pulled away from his intoxicating gaze. “How did you and the other Stormcloaks get captured?” Ralof sighed.

“We were outside of Darkwater Crossing, in Eastmarch. The Legion was waiting for us. They ambushed us! We had no choice but to ride to Helgen.” Ahlam stilled. She tried to understand from Ralof’s crude map. _Was Ivarstead in Eastmarch_?

“When…when were you captured?”

“Two days ago. We were held until the General himself could escort us to Helgen.” Ralof looked at her in confusion. Ahlam stopped in the middle of the road. Kastus ran into her. Aela steadied him and they all looked at her, frowning.

“What is it?” Ralof questioned and extended a hand towards her. Ahlam frowned and looked to the sun. It was slowly setting. They would have to reach Riverwood within the hour to be there before nightfall. Ahlam shook her head.

“I am…behind on schedule.” She grinned at them, hoping to dispel their worry. They still looked at her in apprehension, but without another word, she took the lead once more with Ralof. They walked close together, arms brushing, steps in sync, but remained silent. Birds hummed overhead and the sun warmed them with its dying rays.

Suddenly, as they walked down the hill, the air became quiet. No birds called and the wind stilled. Ahlam looked up and saw a huge, Nordic ruin towering above them.

“That is Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a child, it gave me nightmares.”

“I thought it still gave you nightmares.” Aela stated. Kastus and Ahlam laughed and Ralof flushed in embarrassment.

“Yes, well…come on.” He cleared his throat. At this, Kastus and Ahlam burst into a new fit of laughter. Unable to move, they stood together, doubled over, heads brushing. Peals of laughter ran in the empty road. Aela smiled at them before looking up at Ralof. Ahlam looked up, tears in her eyes. She watched Aela lace her fingers with Ralof’s. Ahlam cleared her throat and patted Kastus on his back.

Kastus cleared his throat and Ahlam and him still bubbled with laughter, but were able to keep mostly silent. Ralof walked down a steep path towards a mine before stopping when Aela pulled him by his cloak. Ahlam noticed a bandit guarding the mine.

“Let’s show them the Guardian Stones.” Aela murmured and pulled Ralof toward her. He slowly nodded and turned around. Kastus moved closer to Ahlam so Ralof would not step into him. Ahlam felt his arm hair tickle her arm.

Ralof slowed his pace as they began to walk from where they came. Aela seemed stiff in her gait. Ahlam cocked her head in puzzlement but remained silent. At the end of the road were three large stones overlooking a river. Ahlam gasped in amazement and walked towards them.

“These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient Standing Stones that dot Skyrim's landscape.” Ralof explained with a tired smile. He looked back at Ahlam and his smile grew. "Go ahead, see for yourself.”

Aela walked quickly towards the stone in the centre. It appeared to have a constellation etched on it. As Ahlam looked closer, she noticed that it had the outline of the Mage. _Can I change my Birth Sign? Am I allowed to change my fate?_ Ahlam wondered.

Aela kneeled in front of the Mage. After a moment, she touched the Mage’s chest and stood. It glowed, sending a light blue light into the sky before fading. Aela walked to Ralof and together, they waited on Kastus and Ahlam.

The Stone on the left was the Thief. A cowled and hooded man who was leaping with a dagger in hand and unbelievably large coin purse at his waist. The Stone on the right was the Warrior in all his heftiness. He wielded a sword and a shield while covered in thick, heavy armor.

Without question, Ahlam placed her hand against the Thief’s covered mouth. She could almost feel the cloth move under her hand as though he smirked. The stars on the Stone glowed, fulfilling the constellation and a beam of green light shot on in the sky. She followed it despite the golden light. It disappeared after a moment as did the constellation.

Ahlam turned around to see Kastus’s head bent down and he touched the Mage’s staff. Another beam of blue light went up into sky and it too disappeared after a moment.

“I’m not surprised you chose Thief, Ahlam.” Kastus spoke, not looking at her. Nonetheless, she grinned at him.

“I can’t help that I will stare at the largest bulge on a man before anything else.” Ralof turned a light pink color and she laughed. “We should continue to Riverwood, yes?” They continued to walk, following the course of a beautiful river. Salmon swam upstream and Ahlam asked if Riverwood had the same river running through it. He nodded.

“This is the White River. It’s the longest river in all of Skyrim. It stretches from the south all the way to the northeast corner. The source is Lake Ilinalta, which is north of Falkreath. If you ever want to travel to that city, you can just follow this river.”

Suddenly, two wolves howled. Ahlam readied her bow in such swiftness, she caught a wolf mid leap. Kastus aimed a Sparks spell at the other and the wolf fell down, dead. Ralof had just pulled out his sword by the time the wolves lay dead. He stared at them in amazement and they both gave him a neutral look and shrugged.

“How much farther to the town?” Kastus asked.

“Not too much longer. There should be a slight turn up ahead and then we’ll be in front of Riverwood.” Aela answered. “Maybe another ten minutes of travel.”

“Anyone hungry?” Ahlam asked, fishing out a red apple. She took a large bite of the fruit.

“Got a green one?” Ralof asked. Ahlam nodded. While holding the red apple in her right hand, she passed Ralof a green apple. He thanked her quietly. Aela moved to Ralof’s left, closer to the river. Ahlam eyed her wearily before stepping back to walk with Kastus.

“Did I upset her?” Ahlam whispered “Or is she jealous simply because I’m talking to him?” She was genuinely curious and slightly worried. Kastus shrugged.

“We both know they are engaged. Perhaps she is jealous from the flirting. She told me that they want to make the most of their lives since who knows if they will survive tomorrow with the war.” Ahlam nodded, feeling bad for flirting. _It was just all done in fun._

Kastus looked at her before smiling. “Still, I understand why you flirted with him.” Kastus held Ahlam’s arm tightly and leaned in. “He is quite handsome.”

“Ah, you prefer…?” She let the question trail off and he grinned at her. Ahlam laughed loudly—causing Aela and Ralof to turn their heads—and placed her arm across his shoulders. He held her waist. There was no disgust or strangeness in a man liking another man. Most of Tamriel didn’t have laws restricting marriage of any gender, allowing love to exist in all forms.

The sky was a fiery red as the sun kissed the horizon. They turned the corner, passing by trees. At last, the town came into view. Kastus’s hand left her waist as he ran. Aela jogged after him with Ralof following behind. Ahlam stopped for a moment and smiled.

She continued to walk towards the town; she was in no rush despite the promise of a warm meal, a bath, and a clean bed to sleep in. Kastus and the others waited for at the gate; he waved at her. She smiled and waved back. The sky had fallen into a darker blue as she passed under the gate and into the proper town of Riverwood. Towards the river, the sky was still a light shade of purple.

“My sister is probably working at the mill. Come on.” Ralof pointed to the mill. Kastus followed closely, not wanting to become lost. Aela walked tall beside Ralof. Ahlam staggered behind them, taking in the sights of the the town. She caught wind of a conversation between a mother and her son.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!” The mother exclaimed. Ahlam felt her heart stop before pumping rapidly. Ahlam knew that the son found his mother irritating and possibly delusional.

"What? What is it now, mother?”

"It was as big as the mountain, and black as night. It flew right over the barrow.” _She has good eyesight for an old woman_ , Ahlam thought.

"Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies.” Ahlam wanted to chime in and say, _I’m not from this nation, but even I think your mother is crazy. The dragon is real though._ However, she thought it would be inappropriate to say such a thing even if it were true.

"You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!” Ahlam shook her head in pity for both the son and the mother; perhaps the dragon would kill them all. Ahlam found her way to the mill easily, crossing over the river. However, Ralof and the others were no where to be found. Ahlam followed the White River until she saw everyone gathered near a tree.

Ralof was sitting on a tree stump talking intensely to another woman with the same blue eyes. A part of her blonde hair was tied back in a loose braid, while the rest sat free on her shoulders. The woman’s nose was straighter that Ralof’s, but they had the same full lips.

Aela sat on the ground in between Ralof’s legs. He had his right hand on her shoulder except when he occasionally added emphasis in the tale of their capture and near execution. Kastus was sitting next to Ralof on another stump. On spying Ahlam, he gestured to the last tree stump beside him. She raised a hand in protest and instead went to the tree nearby.

Ahlam took note of the fungi growing on the tree. Taking a dagger, she cut off a small sliver and ate it. It was ethereal and low tasting; it restored magicka. She leaned against the tree and pulled out her notebook, to draw the new plant. _Ah_ , _I have to remember to draw the spider’s egg too_.

Ralof left no details out in the story—if Ahlam hadn’t been there, she would assume it was a fairy tale. As he told his tale, Ralof bounced his right leg up and down. Aela had her legs stretch out in front of her, ankles crossed while Kastus had one leg crossed over the other. It was strange to see difference in three people despite all three of them being Men—and even with Kastus and his  half-elven blood. _It is strange how one aspect of the body can be so vastly different between races and gender._

“They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then. But then, out of nowhere…a dragon attacked…” Ralof whispered as though talking about the dragon would summon it.

“You don't mean, a real, live…” Aela nodded in Ralof’s place. Ahlam looked down at her drawing.

“I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there. As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon.” Aela shook her head. “In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?”

“Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know.” Ralof’s sister sounded as rough as the wood she cut but just as sure.

“Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while.” Ralof sighed, the tension draining from his body. “I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but…" Ahlam glanced up to see Gerdur smiled at Ralof and waved him off.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what is this fungus called?” Ahlam pointed with her thumb back at the tree.

“Mora Tapinella.” Gerdur’s husband responded. Ahlam nodded her thanks and wrote the name of the fungus on the top of the page. Ahlam lamented at her small handwriting. It was tightly packed with the letters stumbling into one another.

“You and your friends are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine.” Gerdur smiled. Kastus smiled back. Ahlam did not shift. “I do not have enough beds to accommodate you two, but Aela, you are welcome to stay with us as always.” Aela placed her right fist against her heart and bowed her head in thanks.

“Where will Kastus and I rest?” Ahlam asked, stepping out from the shade of the tree for the first time. Gerdur looked at her in alarm for a moment—the tattoos must’ve caught her off guard. Ahlam watched Gerdur’s eyes harden; Nords were a stubborn folk, Ahlam remembered what Ralof had said earlier.”

“The Sleeping Giant Inn seldom has customers, so they should have plenty of room for you two. I will cover the expenses for the night. The inn will have baths and clothing for you as well.” Ahlam nodded once.

“Where is it?” Kastus asked. Gerdur pointed across the river to a warmly lit building that stood in the center of the town.

“Talk to Delphine; she’ll set you up.” Kastus stood up and glanced back at Ahlam. She nodded once to him and they gathered their things. “That dragon you saw earlier…”

“It’s coming this way. I’m sure you saw it.” Ahlam cut Gerdur off, adjusting the straps of the bag. Gerdur nodded slowly, thinking.

“You’re right, I saw it. Earlier, I would’ve said that they’re just stories from long ago, but I believe my brother.” She sighed then. “The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless…We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt.”

“How do we get to Whiterun from here?” Kastus asked. _Ever the helper._ Ahlam thought bitterly. Despite in no rush to travel and the idea of a bath slowed her, Ahlam wanted to be on her way to Hammerfell. _Perhaps delaying a bit longer won’t be bad_? Ahlam reasoned with herself. _Maybe the Jarl will have the prisoners’ belongings_ … _maybe I could get back my old clothes, dagger, and father’s bangle_. Ahlam nodded once, deciding she would stay a bit longer in Skyrim.

"Cross the river and then head north. You'll see Whiterun on its hill as you pass the falls.”

“We can go together,” Aela said, standing up. “We were all there and the Jarl could use the witnesses.”

“Aela, I don’t think that’s wise.” Ralof tensed. Aela frowned.

“Why? Because the Jarl will side with the Imperials and thus, he’s the enemy? Ralof, he’s _our_ Jarl. It doesn’t matter what side of the war he’s on, it is our duty to tell him what has happened upon his land!” Ralof sighed and nodded his head.

“All right. You’re right. We’ll visit Jarl Balgruuf tomorrow.”

“We just found a safe place. Can’t we spend tomorrow in peace?” Kastus pleaded. His voice was oddly pitched.

“I agree.” Ahlam said, defending him. “We should have tomorrow as a rest day before heading to Whiterun.” Ralof sighed again and Gerdur laughed at him.

“Fine. Have it your way. The day after tomorrow, we’ll journey towards Whiterun.” Kastus and Ahlam smiled at each other, relived. “I’m going to go sleep now; it’s been a long day.” Ralof walked towards his sister’s house while Hod went back to the mill.

“I shall see you two tomorrow! Goodnight.” Aela smiled at her companions before walking to Gerdur’s house.

“Gerdur, tomorrow, may I ask you a few questions about the Jarl?” Ahlam crossed her arms and Gerdur nodded.

“Aye. Ask me all you like, but tomorrow. You two need to head to the inn, lest we have to move you in the morning. You two can barely stand on your own two feet!” Kastus yawned then, causing Gerdur to laugh. At that, Kastus and Ahlam bid Gerdur farewell and walked to the inn.

The evening birds sang in the trees around them and the White River surged powerfully behind them. A few insects hummed and buzzed about—a butterfly crossed Ahlam’s path and flew behind Kastus. The sky shimmered with the stars. Night had fully settled in. Ahlam looked up to the two moons, admiring the smaller of the pair, Secunda. The grey moon was a thin crescent.

“Are you missing your homeland?” Kastus asked quietly as they walked. Ahlam jerked her head towards him; he stared at her, sincerely and with pity. Ahlam nodded once and looked back to the open sky. They stood in the middle of the street, but no one was out and about.

“During the hot nights, we would sleep on the flat roofs of our homes, unless we were traveling. If that was the case, we would sit around a large fire, telling stories until exhaustion won and we fell asleep there. Usually, we went to bed full of laughter and happiness and less on food. I loved those nights growing up; my father would tell the stories and his brother, my uncle Isran, would act them out with his scimitar. Some nights, his sword gleamed with the moon—the same silver. It was even the same curve!” Ahlam laughed, covering her mouth slightly. “I miss my family.” Ahlam mumbled and looked down at her calloused hands. Kastus placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll see them soon enough. We just have to go to Whiterun and tell the Jarl about the dragon and then you’ll be on your way.” Kastus spoke quietly, looking at her the whole time. Ahlam placed her hand on his, finding comfort in a man who had nearly died because of her. _Strange how time can change feelings_.

“You sound sad, Kastus.” She inclined her head in a question to him and he nodded once.

“I am. I will miss you.” Ahlam started Kastus who smiled gently at her.

“We barely know each other and I almost caused you to die.” Kastus laughed slightly and Ahlam thought she saw the sun in his mouth.

“I know. But you have helped us escape; you saved me more than once when we fought in Helgen.”

“You saved me as well.” Ahlam insisted, trying to make a claim for a draw. Kastus smiled instead.

“Would you miss me?” His voice was sweet in the air and Ahlam stopped. She thought for a moment and wondered if she would miss him.

“I…would.” She admitted hesitantly, surprised by her own answer. Kastus’s smile grew.

“Thus my answer makes sense. Come, we should head inside.” Ahlam followed him to the inn. “Perhaps when you go back to Hammerfell we could send each other letters?” The gesture seemed so intimate it made Ahlam stop outside the open door. Kastus turned around; the light from the hearth enveloped him.

“Perhaps,” Ahlam answered. She stepped inside the warm inn, pleased. She smelled stew and her stomach growled; she gently patted it, causing Kastus to laugh at her. Kastus and her walked to the bar where a gruff Nord narrowed his eyes at them. Kastus shrunk slightly while Ahlam stood straighter. _He does not scare me_.

“We need a place to stay. Gerdur told us we need to speak to a Delphine.” Ahlam spoke assertively. The Nord grunted and gestured with his chin to a Nord woman, who held a broom in her hand. She had stopped in the middle of sweeping the floor and instead stared at them. _Well, that’s fucking creepy._

“I'm the innkeeper; it’s my business to keep track of strangers. We don't get a lot of travelers here in Riverwood.” Delphine spoke quickly, as though hiding a secret. She raised a brow at them and glanced at their weary state. “You look like you could use an ale. Orgnar!”

The gruff Nord grumbled and began to rummage about. Ahlam and Kastus seated themselves at the table closest to Delphine. Delphine pulled up a chair to sit with them. Orgnar placed two bowls of vegetable stew in front of them roughly, splashing their armour. Kastus grimaced downward while Ahlam glared at Orgnar. Noticing her glare, Orgnar gently placed down the two bottles of ale.

“I don’t drink.” Ahlam said, short. Delphine blinked—waiting a beat too long—before barking at Orgnar to grab a pitcher of water. He grumbled, fetching it. There was a loaf of bread that appeared to be a day-old. _I’m surprised Riverwood is still a functioning town given their lack of…anything_. Ahlam tore it in half as best she could and handed Kastus the larger half. He thanked her.

Orgnar placed a pitcher and cup beside Ahlam before handing her a rag; she wiped off the stew from the armor and handed the cloth to Kastus to do the same. 

Kastus and Ahlam began to wolf down the food. As simple as it was, the adrenaline from nearly being killed and the dragon made the meal taste better than anything that had had before. They even poured seconds of the stew—not waiting on Orgnar to collect their bowls. Ahlam found a goat’s leg and split it with Kastus. Kastus had found more vegetables, namely roasted leeks, onions, carrots, and beets.

“So, what’s your story? Just here to… _relax_?” Delphine poured Ahlam more water and brought Kastus another bottle of ale. Orgnar retired to his bed. Kastus swallowed his large mouthful awkwardly, but Ahlam spoke first, holding her cup in her lap.

“We are travelers.” Kastus frowned, but Ahlam placed her hand on his thigh in warning. Delphine glanced down but did not say anything. “We have had a long journey and wanted lodgings for a night or two.” Delphine nodded.

“And you two are…?” Delphine trailed off, cocking her head slightly. Ahlam placed the cup to her lips and replied into the glass.

“Siblings. Different mothers, obviously, but same father.” Ahlam lied. Human children mostly took after their mothers. Despite being different races, Ahlam’s Imperial features were close enough to Kastus’s Breton ones. Delphine nodded slowly, seeming to accept the lie. Ahlam sipped her water before wrapping a piece of elder cheese in a part of the bread; she dipped the bread into the stew. Kastus watched her with interest before doing the same. His eyes widened and Ahlam winked at him.

“I have a room down the hallway that’s available. Will two beds be all right?” Delphine asked, standing. Ahlam nodded, but Kastus spoke first.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you, Delphine.” The woman nodded and walked away.  Waiting for her to leave the main room, Kastus turned to Ahlam. “Two points.” He held up his index finger. “One, the cheese and the bread in the stew tastes amazing.” Ahlam smiled at him and inclined her head. “Two, why are we lying—” Ahlam placed a hand on his mouth, half standing on the bench. Kastus frowned, but stood sill.

“She might still hear us,” Ahlam whispered and Kastus slowly nodded. Ahlam removed her hand and sat down. “I’ll tell you when we are safe.” Ahlam reached for a sweet roll and tossed it between her hands for a moment. “You know, it’s strange how Nords drink so often. Redguards are…particular of when they consume alcohol. We drink for celebrations—weddings and name days. But it would be strange to drink without reason. Besides, I’m partial to wine.”

As she spoke, Ahlam tore the sweet roll into bite size pieces and placed the pieces in an empty bowl. She held a piece in front of Kastus. He moved to grab it and she made a sound of disagreement. He frowned at her and she parted her mouth.

“Oh.” Kastus said, flushing. Ahlam chuckled. He hesitated before opening his mouth and she placed the piece inside his mouth.

“Sorry, old habit. When someone saves you or is kind to you, you feed them. Usually something sweet and delicate because those foods are expensive.” Kastus nodded in understanding and smiled at her. She, too, smiled and licked the excess frosting from her fingertips. She pushed the bowl towards him before standing up.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice light with almost worry.

“I’m going to bathe. I smell atrocious and I won’t be able to sleep like this.” Ahlam put on her bag and walked down the hallway, passing closed doors. Finally, she came to an open room with two beds. They were small beds made of straw and had a fur blanket, but it was better than the ground. Ahlam walked to the chest at the foot of one of the beds.

 _Seems Delphine was already here_. Ahlam thought for in the chest she opened, there was a long white tunic and light blue cotton hose that covered one’s feet. The clothes looked far too feminine and, making sure, she checked the other chest. Lo and behold, there were the matching garments, fit for a small Breton man. Ahlam chuckled to herself, thankful for Delphine’s quickness.

In Ahlam’s chest was also a white dress with a red smock and short brown boots in the chest. _I’ll wear that tomorrow instead of this armor._ Ahlam balled the tunic and hose in her hands and left the door ajar behind her before heading back to the main room. She spotted Kastus lying across the bench with his arm over his eyes.

“Hey, Kastus?” He hummed and moved his arm to look at her. She smiled at him. “Our room is the third on the left.” He nodded and sat up, collecting his bag. “You should find clothes that will fit in the chest to the left of the room. He thanked her and left. Ahlam found the stairs to the cellar and went inside.

She was disappointed at the baths. There was only two of them and they were very small. “Wish I wasn’t so damned spoiled with our gardens.” Ahlam muttered before walking to a cabinet. Inside were a few towels—Ahlam pulled out the longest one, before realizing it was too long—long enough for an Altmer—and a bar of lavender soap. She rummaged around before finding one that wouldn’t drag behind her like a cape.

Ahlam pulled off the disgusting fur armor and stepped into the warm bath. A sigh of happiness escaped her as the water soothed her muscles. _This_ … _this is what I’ve been wanting_. She luxuriated for a few moments before washing off the blood, dirt, and general grime from the day. She decided not to tarry in the filthy water longer than necessary.

The stone floor was unbearably cold and she cursed loudly, walking on her heels quickly to her towel. She had stupidly put it on a bench. Ahlam quickly dried herself and dressed in the cotton tunic and hose. She wrung out her long hair in the bath.

“One of these days, I’m going to cut my hair off.” Ahlam muttered. She grabbed her bag, stuffed her messy armor inside, and headed up the stairs. There was no one in the inn and the hearth was burning low. Ahlam half wanted to lay in it but decided against it.

Upon opening the door to their shared room, Ahlam found Kastus asleep on his bed, still dressed in his armor and shoes. Ahlam smiled to herself, holding back laughter. She placed her bag into the chest and silently walked to Kastus. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook his awake. He stretched and looked at her in confusion.

“You should go bathe before the water gets cold.” Ahlam said quietly. Kastus nodded, still confused. Ahlam guided him to the cellar with fresh clothes in hand. He sleepily thanked her and walked down the steps. She waited until the door had closed before heading back to the room.

Ahlam fished for the alchemy journal and crawled into bed. She began to touch up the sketches of the fungi and the spider eggs. By the time Kastus reentered the room with damp hair and an equally damp beard, the journal was on her nightstand and her candle was blown out.

Kastus crept quietly in the room. “I’m not asleep you know.” Ahlam did not whisper in the dark, startling Kastus. He knocked right into the chest at the foot of his bed. He cursed and Ahlam laughed.

“You didn’t have to scare me like that!” He whispered loudly. She shrugged underneath the covers and turned to face him.

“I’m just telling you, you don’t need to be so quiet.” He grimaced in the dark and Ahlam nearly chuckled.

“Are you going to bed now?” Kastus asked, still whispering. She turned over, facing the wall and away from Kastus.

“I was thinking about it.” Ahlam waited to hear him move the furs from the bed and blow the candle out before turning to lay on her back, staring at the stone ceiling. It was cold in the room and Ahlam shivered.

“Cold?” Kastus whispered and Ahlam made a small sound of affirmation. “Wanna take my furs?”

“No. It’s fine. I won’t suffer so badly tonight. The desert can be cold too.” The room became silent with each of their thoughts. Ahlam knew that Kastus neared sleep. “We should have breakfast with Aela…so we can ask Gredur questions about the Jarl.” Kastus barely grunted a response and was soon fast asleep, breathing evenly.

Ahlam thought back to the day when her father, Abdahel, and the rest of her tribe had gone to Elinhir. Isran, her father’s brother, had left her in one of the temples and asked the mages to look after her for a few hours. She was eight at the time and a curious child. She walked through the temple, looking at different sculptures and murals with wonder.

There was one mage—a Bosmer with kind eyes and simple clothing with a wolf’s tooth earring—that took a liking to her. He followed her like a second shadow, answering her questions. He did all he could to make sure she stayed out of trouble. She liked the mage—Solilas—and his quiet ways. Perhaps it was his dark skin and long hair that made her feel comfortable. Nothing however, could prepare her for the mural of Satakal he showed her.

Solilas had taken her towards the back of the temple where a large mural of Satakal—the Worldskin—was eating the world and the world was him. Three figures stood underneath him, striking him down with different methods. The mural was too old, however, and the figures were lost in darkness. The colors had faded long ago.

Ahlam turned to Solilas with wide eyes. “What does it mean?” He smiled at her and looked at the snake.

“No one truly knows. A few of us here assume it is the telling of the cycle of Satakal. Perhaps the tale is being written now, or maybe in a few years. Or perhaps it will be a few eras. It is uncertain, _wel_.” He called her child in Bosmeris. “If you will permit me, I would like to show you something.” He cast his hand over her eyes and when she saw the mural again, colors dripped as though freshly painted.

A man stood in the center of the mural, holding a sword upwards. He was clad in leather and furs. To his right was a Nord woman with flowing blonde hair; she looked like the wind and pushed an ice spell towards Satakal. To the left was a woman with short black hair, wearing reds and blacks, shooting arrows. Satakal was a black snake with burning red eyes; the world he held was ice-cold.

Ahlam turned to ask Solilas what he had done, but the elf was gone. Despite running through the halls and asking the mages where he was, no one had heard of an elf by the name of Solilas. She dragged mages to the mural and they stopped short. It had been restored to its original colors and the mages stared at it. Just then, a fidgety Dunmer walked up to the group and spoke about a newly translated prophecy. Ahlam memorized the prophecy that day and ever since then, it haunted her. As a child, she liked to imagine she was one of the saviors. Someone who would go down in history as a great protector.

After her father died, Ahlam wanted nothing to do with saving the world. She wanted to be buried with her grief instead.

_Encounter at Heart-Snow.  
_ _Wartorn hearts to meet.  
_ _Bitter passages of acceptance.  
  
_ _Aldmer and Nedes love-child, lover of Men.  
_ _Warrior-Wife of Storm.  
_ _Desert Child of Night.  
  
_ _Destruction follows their voice,  
_ _each give a piece of their heart.  
_ _Journey forever, journey never.  
  
_ _One shall doom the world.  
_ _One shall save the world.  
_ _One shall lead the world.  
  
_ _By Blackest Night, become one.  
_ _By Blackest Night, destroy devourer.  
_ _By Blackest Night, come undone._

Ahlam closed her eyes, begging for sleep. She saw the mural in her mind’s eye. _Are there oracles here in Skyrim_? _Someone who can read bones_? _There’s no way the prophecy is about us_ — _it can’t be_. With troubled thoughts, Ahlam slept deeply and disturbed, hearing Solilas in her head before he howled like a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 6,915  
> updated: 13 February 2017


	5. Chapter V — Riverwood [Kastus]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kastus picks up a pair of tongs. The three trade personal information.

The sky shifted from a heavy, imposing blackness into a light grey-blue. As the sun stretched and yawned, the birds called overhead. Kastus opened his green eyes and saw the stone ceiling. He shifted slightly and noticed that he had tossed the furs off in his sleep. His feet and chest were exposed to the slight chill of the room.

Kastus still lay on his side, facing the wall, as though he hadn’t moved all night. He faintly heard his mother in his head, muttering, “every time you sleep, I’m scared you won’t wake up.” He shivered then and blamed it on the cold. He passed a hand over his face and turned around, hoping to catch a few more minutes of rest.

Lying on the opposite bed, fast asleep was Ahlam. Kastus stared at the dark skinned woman for a moment before remembering the events of the previous night. He closed his eyes and the memories came back—his capture, vomiting at his feet, a dragon. A cold sweat griped him by the neck. _I_ … _I am lucky to be alive_. _I must pray to Stendarr_. Kastus thought.

He opened his eyes once more to inspect Ahlam. She lay on her side, facing him. One arm was underneath the pillow, supporting her head while the other, her knuckles rested against her lips. Thin strands of black hair covered her features. Kastus watched for a moment to see if she would awaken, but she continued to slumber. Hoping she would feel rested, Kastus sat up. The bed creaked. He stole a glance, but Ahlam continued to sleep.

Kastus tied his hair in a loose, but thick braid with the hair tie that his father, Nermus, had given him many years ago. It was a gift for his fifteenth birthday, some fifteen years. He remembered his father’s last words as he threaded his fingers through his deep brown locks.

“The pilgrimage won’t take long, my son, and I will be back shortly. A few months at best.” His father’s hand was warm on his shoulder. Either the light streaming from the open door made Nermus hard to see or perhaps it was the oldest of the memory as his father was harder to see with each passing year. Kastus blinked and felt his cheeks slightly wet; he hastily wiped them away as though embarrassed.

Because of his father’s disappearance some five years ago, Kastus had decided to join the Companions. As great heroes of Skyrim, they would be the ones to know of any travelers caught by bandits or found dead. More importantly, his father had been going to venture to the Tomb of Ysgramor, the patron of the Companions.

Kastus cleared his throat quietly and kneeled down, facing the resting Ahlam. He clasped his hands in front of him and felt the uneven stone at his knees. He closed his eyes and began his prayer to the God of Mercy and Justice. The invocation always began the same. “Come to me, Stendarr, for without you, I might be deaf to the manswarm murmurings of thy people, and forgetting their need for comfort and wisdom, I might indulge myself in vain scribblings.

“I ask of your guidance, and ask that you bless the company I keep today. May Ahlam find luck—as is your sphere of influence—by more righteous means. May Aela become steadfast by your will. May Ralof have compassion for his days have been rough. I thank you, Righteous Stendarr. May you ever live on in my heart.”

Kastus slowly rose and saw the barest movements in Ahlam’s eyes. At that, he quietly left the room. He walked into the main room and saw no one, not even Orgnar at the bar. The embers in the fire were dim and dying. The tables were empty of food and drink. Frowning, Kastus walked into the center of the room, but no one appeared. His stomach rumbled and he looked about for some kind of food.

Feeling slightly guilty but far more hungry, Kastus leaned over the bar and reached for a bottle of ale.

“You’re going to have to pay for that.” Kastus froze, the bottle cool at his lips. He turned around slowly and saw Delphine standing in the center of the room, arms crossed. He frowned and set the bottle down on the counter.

“How did you…never mind.” He shook his head. “Gerdur said she would cover the expenses.” Though his answer was definite, Delphine didn’t seem to care. She rolled her eyes and snatched the bottle from beside him.

“We both know that you and that Redguard are not related. You barely look anything alike. You, with your elven blood, trying to hide with a full beard and her with Redguard tattoos. Even if you two were raised in the same home, you would have to have something similar. So tell me, where are your piercings and tattoos?

Kastus opened his mouth to retort but closed it upon thinking. _I don’t wish to start the day with lying_.

“That’s what I thought,” Delphine crossed her arms once more. “We both know _travelers_ or _wanderers_ such as yourself are always worming their way, getting everything for free while we hardworking folk always break our backs and get nothing.” At that point, Kastus wanted to argue. He came from a family of hardworking people who were merchants. Quite well off, a section of the Thierry family still farmed. The section Kastus happened to be a part of.

“Travelers spend too much coin on drink, women, and brawls. And not enough to help the farmers.”  Delphine muttered, taking a sig of the ale. Kastus stared at her as he felt insulted. The rage built inside him but Delphine took it as a blank expression. “Ask around town and see if anyone needs help. They might pay you with what little they have and that can cover another night at the inn.” Kastus nodded and walked back to the room.

He carefully opened the door. Ahlam had turned to face the opposing wall. The covers were flung off of her. Her hair covered her neck and looked like a thick, fat rope. Kastus swallowed uncomfortably. He walked to her and pulled the trapped furs between her legs. She muttered a small protest before it was placed gently upon her once more. He slowly moved Ahlam’s hair away from her neck and Kastus swore he heard her sigh in relief. He, too, sighed.

Standing in front of the chest he had haphazardly thrown his things into the night before, Kastus pulled out the knapsack. He rummaged inside of it and began to emptying everything onto the floor. He sorted his items into piles and placed them inside the chest, leaving the bag empty save for a few spare coins. Kastus found the simple clothes Delphine had placed inside last night: a red tunic with purple trim; white pants and brown boots with buttons to bind them.

Kastus secured his sword to his hip before walking down the hall once more into the main room. Delphine was reclined against the counter of the bar, still sipping from the ale. She gestured to the door and Kastus nodded. He felt her gaze on his back until the door closed behind him.

He sighed and leaned against the wood. It creaked slightly. He inhaled and smelled the fine mist from the White River. He easily heard the birds in the trees. He opened his eyes and noticed the tips of the cold mountains were a faded pink. Kastus smiled as he saw something similar to his home of Camlorn. He inhaled the sweet air and felt at peace. If let himself believe, he could imagine this was just a small town on his way to Camlorn. _One day_ , _I will come home with Father_.

He walked through the empty town, spying a few chickens and a singular goat roaming the streets but not wandering away from town. He saw off in the distance salmon breaking free from the river. The mill itself was being worked by someone. Deciding to see who was there, Kastus walked towards it. He passed by a two-story building made of crude wood and stone, clearly built in a hurry. It seemed stable enough. Kastus read a faded sign: The Riverwood Trader. He nodded to himself. We should restock our supplies when we get the chance. He continued down the street, passing an older Nord with greying hair. The man led a brown cow along the street. Both Kastus and the man nodded to each other in greeting.

He came across a forge but no forge-master. He paused there and took note of the fairly hot embers. Someone had just been here. Kastus glanced around but saw only tools and some iron ingots laying about. Sighing, he wandered to the mill. He found two burly Nords, already drenched in a fine sweat, working away at moving logs and cutting them into smaller pieces. Kastus suddenly felt nervous. He wanted the support of Gerdur, or maybe even her husband, Hod, instead of asking these men if they needed help. They regarded him coolly as they worked.

Kastus did his best to make it seem like he was just wandering about. As he did, he found a few wild mushrooms and insects. He frowned and wondered how to contain them for Ahlam. Realizing he didn’t know, he left them but decided he would tell her upon her awakening. Kastus walked back towards the central area of the small town and heard the sound of metal ringing. He jumped slightly and rushed back.

The blacksmith had returned from his small absence, unknowingly missed. Kastus bounded up the two steps to him. Kastus ducked his head despite the ceiling being a few inches taller than him. The blacksmith didn’t even look up.

“Hello there, Master.” Kastus called out. The smith looked up. He was a large, burly Nord. His face was blackened with soot and his eyes seemed even bluer. His blond hair was parted down the center and stopped past his chin; Kastus was surprised to see it loose. The smith had a thick, blond beard that was just as dusty from work.

“Ain't every day we get visitors in Riverwood.” The smith said, eyeing Kastus. He smiled pleasantly. The smith pumped air into the forge before picking up a piece of still hot iron. He moved it to the anvil. “Whatever you need, by Ysmir, if it's simple and strong, I can forge it.” Kastus watched the smith for a moment. The heat from the forge, the furrowed brow, and the precise sound of the hammer against the iron made Kastus realize that he was looking at the man’s soul lay bare. He shuddered before clearing his throat.

“Actually, I need to find some work. I need to repay Gerdur for paying for my companion and I’s stay last night.” The blacksmith nodded absentmindedly. He cooled the strip of iron holding it in the water by a pair of tongs. As the water hissed from the contact of the metal, the smith pulled it away once more. He nodded once and placed it on the anvil.

“Well…I suppose you could make some armor or weapons and I could pay you for it.” The blacksmith was reluctant, but Kastus needed the money regardless. “Ever work at a forge?” The blacksmith asked, already knowing the answer. Kastus shook his head sheepishly causing the blacksmith to sigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m a better farmer than smith.” The blacksmith shook his head and smiled slightly at Kastus.

“I can show you the basics first.” The smith held out his hand and Kastus stared at the gloved hand, confused. The blacksmith sighed, slightly impatient. “Your sword, boy.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Kastus pulled the iron sword from its scabbard. The blacksmith laughed. And continued to laugh. Kastus flushed with embarrassment and glared at the blacksmith, dropping his sword to his side. The blacksmith doubled over in laughter. As he attempted to recover, he placed his hand on the rim of the forge; the forge licked his fingers and he jumped away quickly. Kastus smirked. _Thank you_ , _Stendarr_.

“Ah, haven’t laughed that hard in a while.” The blacksmith clutched his injured hand against his stomach and walked over to a small jar that had a clear ointment. He continued to speak as he applied the medicine. “Sorry, lad. It’s just…what are you killing with that, butterflies?” If anyone ever asked Kastus to retell the tale, he would claim that the heat of the forge caused his skin to flush. “There’s a rumor of a dragon and if that isn’t ridiculous—”

“It’s real.” Kastus firmly cut him off. The blacksmith seemed uninspired and rolled his eyes.

“And yet you have a sword that will break if you were to kill a chicken.” The smith chuckled slightly and walked back to him. “Let me show you how to make a real blade. Name’s Alvor; what’s yours, butterfly-killing lad?” Kastus grimaced but held out his hand.

“Kastus.” Alvor shook hands with him and smiled warmly.

“We’ll make a smith out of you yet, Kastus.” Alvor taught Kastus the basics of the forge. He guided the young man in how to forge, draw, bend, upset, weld, and finish the metal of whatever he desired. Kastus wanted to make a new sword, but Alvor had simply laughed at him. “We’ll start with a simple dagger first.” Kastus reluctantly agreed under his new master.

Two hours passed by as Alvor showed Kastus the stencil of crafting a steel dagger. He pulled the steel into the water before pulling it out. He began striking it, coercing it into the shape he desired. Beads of sweat dripped onto the hot metal, hissing.

After a moment, Alvor took over forging the dagger as Kastus took a small break. Nearly two more hours passed as Kastus wanted to add details to the daggers. Alvor told him he would have to wait until after it was tempered but told him to craft stencils for the blades. Kastus decided that the one that was curved with a simple leather hilt needed no extra flair; it would be simple. The other dagger, perfectly straight, but a bit thin, would have Nordic knots along the base of the blade. Kastus watched in amazement as Alvor sketched on the paper before allowing Kastus to add his own flair.

Someone cleared their throat and Kastus looked up sharply. Ahlam leaned against one of the wooden support beams with her arms crossed. She titled her head. Kastus found her appearance to be startling. The dress was a bit too short, but the boots covered most of her legs. A faint thought entered Kastus’s mind: _she looks better bloody and armored_. Something about her in this state made him feel uneasy.

“Careful now, don’t let me distract you.” Ahlam said slyly. Kastus cursed. He had almost ruined the detailing done by Alvor. Ahlam chuckled.

Leaning back, Kastus felt his legs stiffen beneath him. His back ached and twisted; his eyes were slowly unfocused on the metalwork in front of him. He stole a glance at Alvor, busy with a sword, and Kastus smiled. He was happy to be working and helping in anyway he could. Being raised as a farmer, one was used to work.

“You took your time waking.” Kastus said and Ahlam shrugged.

“You were gone when I awoke. You and Aela owe me breakfast, remember?” Ahlam leaned her head forward slightly. Kastus laughed and then his stomach rumbled. Ahlam chuckled at his embarrassment.

“Right. Let me ask Master Alvor if I can leave.” Kastus said, pulling off his apron. Alvor consented with haste upon learning Kastus hadn’t eaten.

“You should’ve told me, boy! I would’ve had my wife prepare something.” Kastus smiled and held up his hand.

“Please, it’s no trouble. I thank you again, Master.” Kastus bowed his head formally. Avlor placed his large hand on Kastus’s head, dismissing him in a paternal manner. Kastus’s stomach jumped at the familial touch. Ahlam watched the exchange silently and gestured to the road with her head. They walked quietly to Gerdur’s house, which was only a few houses up the road.

Ahlam glanced at Kastus, who shrugged slightly. He felt like he was intruding despite Aela’s resquest. Ahlam shook her head slightly and knocked on the door. Hod, Gerdur’s husband, opened the door. He smiled toothily at them.

“Welcome, you two. Come on, breakfast is just being served.” Ahlam thanked him and stepped inside with Kastus following. Immediately, he smelled fresh bread, slow cooked meat, rosemary and sage. The fire burned, bathing the room a warm yellow while heating the room to a pleasant warmth. Kastus saw Aela and Gerdur speaking to each other as they worked.

As Aela turned to grab something from a high shelf, Kastus noticed that Aela had tied her hair into a singular braid. On her left cheek were claw marks. Kastus frowned slightly and wondered where she had gotten them.

Ahlam sat at the table with Hod, Frodnar, and Ralof. She waved at Kastus who took his seat to her left, as he had done the previous night. In front of the men were tankards of ale, half finished. They discussed the war in hushed tones while Frodnar affectionately held the head of his dog. Kastus caught bits of the the conversation.

“When Ralof becomes High King the war will end…” Hod said. Ralof shook his head and sipped the ale.

“Only if Jarl Elisif steps down. Besides, there is the matter of the dragon…” Kastus tuned out the conversation as Ahlam’s name was called out by Gerdur.

“Ahlam, do you mind helping us?” Gerdur stood in the kitchen like area. Ahlam visibly stiffened beside him before nodding and smiling slightly. She rose and glanced down at Kastus. He saw fear and hesitation in her eyes but she walked onward. Worried for her, he followed the women’s conversation instead.

“Could you set the table?” Aela asked, gesturing to a cabinet. Ahlam nodded and with grace befitting a thief, held seven plates, silverware, and an empty tankard. She began setting the plates for each of them—Ralof stopped mid-sentence to thank her and she nodded once to him. The empty tankard was set in front of Kastus who thanked her as she filled it with ale.

“Enough talk about the war,” Hod grumbled, leaning back against the bench. Ralof sighed and shifted to face Kastus once more.

“Kastus, ever play the Battle of Heroes?” Kastus frowned and titled his head.

“No? What’s that?” Ralof laughed and Hod smiled before finding a desk of cards. Ralof began to explain the game as he shuffled the cards. Kastus stared at his calloused hands, the uneven and dirty nails. He looked at the woodgrain in the unfinished table and wondered how often Ralof or the others had experienced splinters.

“And those are the basic rules. Make sense?” Ralof said. Kastus looked up into his steel blue eyes and grinned.

“Makes sense. Let’s play.” Ralof smirked and dealt the cards. Not even a full hour had passed before Kastus had won his third round—“beginner’s luck,” Ralof drunkenly slurred.

Aela, Gerdur, and Ahlam began placing the food on the table. There was warm beef stew with carrots and potatoes. There was a small bowl of roasted leeks, beets, and mushrooms. There was a loaf of bread, cut into rectangles. There was a goat’s cheese and a cow’s cheese as well as butter. Kastus marveled at the array. Even though the food was simple and there would be much left over, it felt like a feast.

“Ralof, come here.” Aela said tersely. Ralof, grinning toothily, stood up and wobbled slightly. Without asking, she placed her hands around his neck. Her hands glowed a faint orange before becoming whiter and whiter. Ralof winced and blinked once as Aela drew her hands back. She stared intently. Ralof shook his head for a moment; the two blond braids framing his face swayed.

“Thank you, Aela. I didn’t mean to drink so much.” Aela nodded and wiped her hands on the apron.

“I know.” Ralof hesitated for a moment before reaching for her hand. He held it close to his mouth and Kastus found himself feeling awkward for looking upon such an intimate moment. Thankfully, Ahlam slid into the spot next to him once more. She sighed and glanced wearily at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aela smiling shyly as Ralof made his way back to the table.

Aela eventually made her way to Kastus’s left side. He liked having both of his companions in arm’s length; he felt safe. Gerdur sat down in a spare chair she dragged to act as the head of the table. Ahlam reached over the vegetables to grab the salt.

“I assume you do not have port cities, do you?” Ahlam asked.

“We do actually. A few port cities, but it’ll look different than anything you find in Hammerfell.” Ahlam chuckled as she salted the stew.

“Everything here is different. But thank you. What place had the freshest fish?”

“Riften.” Ralof answered, taking a bite of bread. “Best meadery and fishery in all of Skyrim.” Ahlam nodded slowly. “It’s in the Rift. Down south.” He explained her unasked question. She thanked him. “River Honrich surrounds Riften and that’s why it smells.” Hod laughed.

“Most port cities do,” Ahlam said, smiling nostalgically. Kastus looked at her for a moment, trying to discern the misty look. After a moment, it faded and Kastus turned his attention to Gerdur instead.

“You wanted us to go to Whiterun, correct?” Gerdur nodded. “What can you tell us of the Jarl? Jarl…”

“Balgruuf,” Aela said, sipping the stew. Kastus nodded once, committing the name to memory. _After all, if I’m joining the Companions, I should know my ruler_.

“Jarl Balgruuf? I don't mean to be disrespectful, as he's ruled Whiterun Hold well for years, but he seems in over his head now." She sighed before continuing, "he's been trying to stay out of the war, but it can't last. He's going to have to pick a side. I'm afraid he's going to make the wrong choice."

“So is he loyal to the Empire?” Ahlam questioned while bringing a small piece of a leek to her lips.

“I wouldn't say that. But he and Ulfric have been at odds for years, and I'm afraid Balgruuf will end up siding with the Empire because of it. But it's hard to believe that even Balgruuf would choose Elisif over Ulfric.”

“But you are, of course, loyal to the Stormcloaks.” Kastus said. Gerdur nodded firmly.

“Of course. Ulfric's cause is just. It's time for Skyrim to rid itself of the Empire The Empire may have been good for Skyrim once upon a time, but those days are long past. Banning the worship of Talos was the last straw. Thalmor everywhere, dragging people off for honoring our own gods! I'm glad Ralof is helping drive them out of here. If I was a bit younger, I might have joined the fight myself.” Gerdur chuckled and Hod smiled at her. He reached his hand forward and squeezed her hand. Kastus watched their small display of affection and felt his chest ache. He thought back to his parents in his own youth, always smiling, always happy.

Kastus felt Ahlam’s glance, but he remained silent. “You mentioned someone named Elisif earlier. Who’s that?” Ahlam asked. She placed a hand on Kastus’s thigh as though asking after his wellbeing. He gently touched her hand and after a moment, she retracted it. Gerdur nodded and set down her spoon.

“I suppose she's Jarl Elisif now. She married High King Torygg just before Ulfric killed him.” Gerdur quietly explained, looking forlorn into the stew. “The Empire supports her claim to be High Queen. I don't really have anything against her—not her fault that her husband Torygg was bought and paid for by the Empire. But she's nothing but a puppet for the Empire now, with her husband Torygg dead. Ulfric will make sure she never takes the throne as High Queen."

“Ulfric killed the High King?” Ahlam asked, surprised. Gerdur nodded.

“Some say murdered, but it was a lawful challenge in the old way. Ulfric called him out as a traitor to Skyrim, and killed him in single combat. If Torygg couldn't defend his throne, he had no business being High King.” Gerdur glanced at Hod sadly. He only slightly smiled. Kastus wanted to help them in their grief. _I have my own worries_ , _but they took us in_ …

“This means there is no High King now.” Ahlam continued, breaking Kastus’s thoughts. He looked at Ahlam, who had stopped eating as well. Her brows were furrowed and her fork was loose in her hand.

“No, not until the Moot meets to choose another. And it won't meet until one side or the other wins the war. Don't worry, though.” Gerdur added after noticing the tense atmosphere at the table. “Ulfric is our rightful High King. He'll drive out the Empire and Skyrim will have peace at last.” Gerdur looked to the others with hopefully, gleaming eyes. Ahlam smiled and nodded once.

With the meal finished, the women cleaned up. Hod and Ralof began to discuss the war once more while Frodnar and his dog ran outside to play. Kastus stood up and walked to the small kitchen.

“Gerdur, thank you for the fine meal.” He bowed his head slightly. Gerdur smiled.

“It’s no trouble, Kastus. Thank you for bringing Aela and Ralof home safely to me.” Kastus nodded once.

“Aela, Ahlam,” he turned his attention to the two women cleaning dishes. Ahlam turned around fully, drying a plate while Aela half turned as she washed. “If you two are free, come by the smithy so we may talk. I have questions I would like to ask you.” Ahlam nodded firmly and went back to drying.

“Of course, Kastus. We’ll do our best to come shortly.” Aela said and smiled. Kastus smiled as well before heading back to Alvor’s smith. As the smithy came into view, Kastus saw Alvor leaned back on his bench with a woman standing over him. Alvor shook his head mournfully and the woman, Kastus assumed was his wife, walked slowly back into the house, seeming dazed.

As Kastus approached, Alvor looked up in sorrow. There was a small tear that threatened to leave his eye, but Alvor subtly tried to wipe it away. Kastus made no comment. “I’m sorry for Sigrid. Ever since our nephew joined the Legion, she’s been worried sick.” Kastus nodded in understanding.

“Back to the daggers then?” Alvor stood up slowly, his back creaking. In that moment, he looked like an old man, weathered by war. Kastus held his breath and nearly reached out to help him, but Kastus knew that Nordic pride. Alvor slowly walked towards a small cabinet and began pulling out various tools—bellows, tongs, other things Kastus didn’t recognize. There were a few aprons Alvor set aside before he pulled out a small coin purse.

Time slowed as Alvor made his way back to Kastus, clutching the bag like an infant. Kastus felt his heart seize as he saw the faint memory of a child being clutched.

“You’ve done a better job than my nephew and you haven’t even started tempering the daggers. You have great potential; don’t waste it.” Kastus enclosed his hands around Alvor’s and shook his head.

“Please, Master Alvor. I can’t accept this.” Alvor chuckled.

“I am no master, Kastus. To you or anyone else. I am but a smith. You have crafted two wonderful blades and you will accept this coin.” Alvor pulled his hands suddenly away. Reflexively, Kastus held onto the coin purse. Alvor chuckled again and ruffled Kastus’s hair.

“Now then, let’s get back to tempering.” Alvor smiled and Kastus nodded, pocketing the money. An hour passed as Alvor showed Kastus how to temper the blades. Kastus heard the voices of Aela and Ahlam. While he tried to look up, Alvor clicked his tongue and made him focus on the detailing of the designs he had sketched.

“Hello, Kastus.” Aela said as the two of them approached. Kastus smiled down at the paper but didn’t look up. He heard some movement and stole a glance upwards. Aela sat on the wooden railing by the forge while Ahlam resumed her spot against the wooden beam near to Aela.

“Can I help you?” Alvor asked stepping towards them. Taking this opportunity, Kastus stretched his neck.

“Kastus wanted us to spend time with him,” Ahlam explained.

“We aren’t in the way, are we?” Aela asked. Alvor huffed and shook his head. Aela beamed brightly and Kastus chuckled into his hand. “What are you working on, Kastus?” Aela asked. Kastus smiled.

“It’s a surprise. Should be done soon.” They women glanced at each other. Ahlam shrugged and Aela nodded at Kastus. “You’ll see, don’t worry.” Kastus stood and began to carve into the steel. 

“So, you wished to talk.” Ahlam stated. Kastus grunted, unable to answer. “I assume more about us, but is there any point? We’re just going to Whiterun and then be on our separate ways.” Aela shrugged.

“I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Ahlam exhaled and crossed her arms once more across her chest. She glanced at Aela and then Kastus, Aela watched expectantly while Kastus continued to work in silence.

“All right, then. I was born in the Imperial City but raised in Rihad. My father was Abdahel, chief of a Crown tribe, but he passed away when I was about ten or eleven. I was raised by that tribe, my tribe, by my uncle, Isran, and the others who lived with us in that community. We often travel through the Alik’r Desert but always find our way home in Rihad. It’s a beautiful port city in case you two ever come to visit. I’ll show you around.” Kastus glanced up to see Ahlam smiling at both of them.

“My mother is Gaea. She lives in the Imperial City and I was coming back from a _visit_.” Ahlam stressed the word before sighing. “I have two older sisters. One is married and lives in High Rock with her husband while my other sister is part of the military in Hammerfell.” There was a pause as Ahlam seemed to think. “I suppose this doesn’t matter, but my birthday is on the fifth of Frostfall in the year 174.”

The silence came back. Kastus was surprised by the wealth of information and personal knowledge she had given up. He stopped working for a moment and looked at her. She was staring down at the wooden boards of the smithy, lost in thought or perhaps waiting? “Should I keep going?” Ahlam titled her head slightly but did not look up.

“I’ll talk,” Aela said. Ahlam nodded looked up at her. Kastus continued to work on the straight dagger. “I don’t know where I was born, but I was raised in Windhelm. I don’t know who my real parents are; I had an adoptive mother in Windhelm, but she didn’t approve of my magic.” Aela grew quiet and frowned slightly. “So I ran away.” Ahlam gasped quietly.

“I was twelve and ran all the way down to Mixwater Mill. It’s past Kynesgrove.” Aela added before laughing. “Oh, I forget you guys don’t know the towns. Umm, it’s south of Windhelm.”

“I assume it’s quite a distance for a twelve year-old?” Ahlam asked. Aela nodded. Kastus walked over to Alvor and quietly asked what else could be done to the daggers while still listening to Aela’s tale.

“It is. Even though now it wouldn’t be difficult, I was so small back then. I’m surprised I made it to Glifre alive. I stayed with her for six years before joining the Stormcloaks in 190, nearly fifteen years after the Markarth Incident.”

“Why do you fight for the Stormcloaks?” Ahlam asked.

“Talos is one of our gods; we should worship him freely. Besides, the Empire shouldn’t have hold on any of us. After that damn Concordat, the Void broke loose. We lost one of our gods for the elves? I can’t stomach the thought.” Aela passionately explained. Ahlam nodded.

“So, when’s your birthday?” Kastus asked, stepping towards them. Aela stared and Ahlam laughed.

“The third of Hearthfire in 172.”

“You’re older than me?” Ahlam asked, surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Well, I’m older than both of you,” Kastus proudly proclaimed. Ahlam titled her head and Aela nervously laughed. “Tenth of Sun’s Height. 171.” Ahlam laughed then.

“Indeed you are older than us, Kasteanr Thierry. So, tell us your story.” Kastus smiled and held out two small leather scabbards in front of him.

“First, a gift.” The girls frowned and Aela jumped off the railing to stand in front of Kastus. He had forgotten how tall she was in that moment. “I crafted daggers for you. A curved _khanjar_ in the style of her people for Ahlam,” he handed the dark leather scabbard to Ahlam. She held it in her hands and bowed her head. “And a thin stiletto for Aela. There are runic designs at the base. Alvor helped me with them. One means protection and the other means swiftness.” Kastus handed the lighter leather scabbard to Aela.

Ahlam waited to look at Aela before they both unsheathed the blades. They marveled and gasped at the steel. Kastus patiently watched them, pride swelling in his breast. Ahlam titled the blade in different directions, looking down the length to see its even make. She took a few steps back and swung in the air, feeling the balance. Aela, by contrast, stared at the blade. Her fingers ran over the runes and she muttered something Kastus didn’t catch.

“I apologize. The designs and make are still rough. It was my first attempt at blades. Alvor helped mostly.” Kastus gestured back to the smith who grumbled.

“This is your first weapon?” Ahlam asked, straightening her posture. Kastus nodded. Ahlam sheathed the weapon and ran into Kastus’s arms. He hugged her tightly, smelling lavender and smoke. “This is amazing, Kastus.” Ahlam pulled back, tears in her eyes.

“This is truly wonderful, Kastus. Thank you.” Aela said, clutching the hilt to her her chest. Kastus smiled.

“You could grow to become a renowned smith if you like.” Ahlam noted, delicately touching the dagger. Kastus shook his head.

“It’s not my goal, actually. I want to join the Companions.” Alvor stopped working for a moment before the sound of the hammer striking the metal resumes. Ahlam stared at him in slight confusion, but Aela’s brows rose.

“For honor and glory?” Aela asked quietly. Kastus beamed at her.

“For more than that. I want to travel. I want to protect people. I want to…” He stopped suddenly. Ahlam reached forward and touched his shoulder. Kastus shook his head and smiled. “Sorry. I got lost in thought.” He cleared his throat and Ahlam pulled back. She tied the dagger around her waist.

“Let’s see. I was born and raised in Camlorn. I’m a farmer’s son. I…nothing interesting’s happened to me like you two.” Kastus chuckled nervously and glanced away at the trading store.

“What you think is not interesting is the most interesting tale for someone else.” Ahlam encouraged with a smile. Kastus looked at her in wonder, realizing her words were true. He looked at them with resolve.

_My father left us; I want to join the Companions so I can find him._

_And my brother Krag…He—_

Kastus sighed. “I really don’t have anything interesting. My father left a few years ago stating he was coming here. He said he was going to explore Skyrim and maybe meet some family in Whiterun. We haven’t heard from him and so I set out to find him.” Ahlam reached forward again and placed a hand on his shoulder. Both her and Aela smiled sympathetically.

“If there is anything we can do to help, we’ll do our best.” Aela said. Ahlam nodded.

“If you need me to stay for a few days in Whiterun and help you look for your father, I will.” Kastus smiled, tears brimming in his eyes. He blinked them away.

“Thank you, both of you.” Ahlam nodded firmly and pulled away again.

“I should be heading back to Gerdur. She’ll need my help.” Aela said, sighing slightly. She smiled and hugged both of them in farewell before walking to the mill. Ahlam and Kastus stood shoulder to shoulder, not watching anything in particular. They became accustomed to each other. They listened to the other’s breathing; they watched the small movements of impatience; they felt the other’s presence, prominent and real. Kastus inhaled, smelling a sharp scent. _Saffron? No…What is this spice?_ Kastus inhaled again, trying to decipher it.

“You’re probably smelling pink peppers or jasmine. It’s a different smell, but that’s what I usually wear.” Ahlam continued to stare straight out before turning to him with a smile. Kastus frowned. “I had a vial of roses, jasmine, pink peppers, and saffron, and I kept it with me at all times. Though, given Helgen, losing everything, and bathing, I’m surprised you were still able to smell it.”

“I have a good sense of smell.” He replied dumbly, causing her to laugh loudly. It caught him by surprise. “I should…I should probably get back to smithing. You might see if you can help around the town, so we can have enough money for when we go into Whiterun.” Kastus half turned away from Ahlam. She looked pensive towards the river past him.

“Maybe. I think I’ll walk around first, take in the sights.” Kastus nodded slowly, catching her soft tone. _Is she well? She sounds distant, yet a moment ago she was fine_. Ahlam nodded and left Kastus, walking towards the two-story trading store. Alvor cleared his throat and Kastus jumped.

“Ready to get back to work, boy?” Kastus nodded once. “Did you want to make something new?” Kastus looked back towards where Ahlam had gone. He bit his lip before turning to Alvor.

“Teach me how to make the best bow possible.”

—

He was drowning. Kastus inhaled water and struggled, trying to find the surface. Something held him. _Hands_? The thought was clear, unlike his vision. Kastus moved, trying to pry off the hands off but heard a voice call his name. _Krag? Krag_!

Kastus opened his eyes. There was no water; in fact, he was in a vast wheat field. The sky was blue, but storm clouds were approaching. A woman stood in the middle of the wheat field, half-swallowed by it. He ran towards her, wanting to warn her of the storm. As he neared, he noticed she was holding something in her arms.

Kastus reached to touch her. In a sudden whirl, the sky darkened, the fields became burnt, the trees in the distance were gone. The woman turned to him with a twisted smile. Her hair was long and white, her face wrinkled and sullen. There was hint of beauty in her eyes, but they were too sad.

“Mother?” The word tumbled from his lips as realization struck him. His mother smiled at him and showed him what she held: an infant, bundled up so he could not see.

“Look at my son. Look at how beautiful he is.” Her voice was far away as though she were underwater. Slowly, the woman unraveled the bundle. Kastus stared and stared. And then he screamed.

“Kastus! Kastus, it’s fine.” Ahlam held him against her chest; her thick, black hair covered him like a shawl. He shuddered against her and gripped her shoulder tightly. “Shh, you’re fine. It was only a dream.” She cooed soft words and rocked him back and forth. Kastus whimpered.

“I saw…I saw…” Ahlam hugged him tighter, muffling his words against her dress.

“No more of that. You are awake now. You are with me, here; I can’t fight your dreams, Kastus. Come back to me.” He inhaled, smelling bright flowers and spices. He continued to breathe until he became calm. Ahlam only moved to soothe his hair and cooed sweet comforts to him. After exhaling, he pulled back from her and her arms melted from around him, gripping his shoulders instead.

“Thank you, Ahlam.” Kastus smiled slightly to him. She nodded, solemn. “I-I am sorry that you saw that.” She shook her head then and smiled.

“We do strange things when we are plagued with nightmares. Have no fear.” Ahlam extended her hand and helped Kastus stand. “You overworked yourself. It’s late and Aela wants us to leave early in the morning. Come.” Kastus nodded.

“I have something for you.” Kastus said. He looked around the smithy. Night had settled in and covered the smithy. The embers gave off lowlight and the moons above reflected in the water. Thankfully, his elven blood helped him see in the dim light as Ahlam waited. He held the wrapped bow to his chest and stepped towards Ahlam.

She raised a brow and Kastus passed the package to her. She slowly unwrapped it, letting the paper fall to the floor. The bow was made of oak and had bits of steel reenforcement. It was curved, perfect for hunting game. “Again, this is my first attempt. The weight may be off, but I wanted you to have it. The next one will be better.”

Ahlam stared in amazement. She twirled the bow in the dim forge light, looking like a warrior-queen from a fairy tale book. Kastus watched her admire the bow in full; he watched her hands trace the curves of the wood, grip the engraved metal at the centre, touch the thin string. She finally look at him and grinned.

“Thank you so much, Kastus. This is absolutely wonderful! You must show me how to take care of it.” He have her a weary smile and nodded.

“It takes days to make a good weapon, so I’m sorry it is not so fine. I’d be happy to show you how to care for it, however. But let’s leave that for another day, because I am tired. Now, how do I get to the inn without moving?” Ahlam laughed loudly, catching Kastus off guard. She slung the bow on his back and bent down in front of him.

“Come on. I’m not waiting all night.” He sighed and climbed onto her back. “Ugh, you weigh so much! How much did you eat last night?” Ahlam groaned under his weight, struggling to lift him. Kastus began pulling away, before feeling his head brush the top of the smithy. “I’m just teasing; you barely weigh anything.”

Ahlam began walking back towards the inn. Many of the lights were gone, leaving them in the darkness of the night. The stars gave off enough light as did both moons. Kastus caught wind of Ahlam humming. It was a quiet, soft melody that lulled him deeper into sleep. He struggled to stay awake, but the day’s work—and the nightmares—weighed heavily on his mind. He rested his head against her shoulder, engulfed in her hair. He smelled something new: home. Kastus swore he heard his mother calling him.

Kastus opened his eyes and saw Aela laughing inside the inn. The hearth burned and Ahlam smiled wickedly. Kastus blinked and a cool hand touched his face. He jumped.

“Kastus, did you eat anything?” Ahlam asked. He frowned, trying to recall if he ate. He remembered the warm forge. He remembered breakfast and talks of the war. Building weapons for his companions. “Aela, see if you can bring him something to eat. I’ll take him to the room. I think he’s running a fever.”

Kastus felt himself rising off the floor and floating. He closed his eyes and felt hot, unbearably hot. He struggled against the grip around him.

“Mother. Mama, help.” Kastus mumbled before hearing a sigh. He turned about, feeling the ocean tossing him. _This is what Krag must’ve felt_. Cold fingers touched his head and he groaned.

 _Mother, where are you?_ He pleaded with the disease.

_I warned you, boy. Do not play in the river with your brother._

_But he is not here with me; I am with friends in Skyrim. I’m looking for Father. Isn’t that what you wanted?_

_Oh, yes your_ friends _. The thief who will gut you as soon as your coin purse is big enough and the so-called mage with bloodied hands, ready to use you for war! I know of them, and if you know anything, you will leave them come morrow._

_Mother! Do not speak of them as such. You do not know them. Where is Krag? Where is my brother?_

_Dead! Because you let him drown!_

Kastus jerked awake, furs flying about. Arms enveloped him and he knew it was Ahlam. She rubbed his back and pulled away slightly. Kastus frowned at her, utterly confused and sick. His head ached with the pounding of drums and his skin was clammy. He couldn’t tell if he was hot or cold.

“You were having another nightmare.” Ahlam explained. “Here, drink this.” She held out a glass of a dark red liquid and held his spare hand as he drank deeply. It was bitter but flat. It sat in the back of his throat and he could almost ignore it. Aela, seated at his right, held his head. His head stopped pounding and his skin slowly settled into a normal temperature. He closed his eyes and rested his head back into her hands. When she pulled away from him, Aela’s skin was paler.

“Thank you.” His voice was dry and he tried to clear it. He looked around for a spare glass and pitcher; Ahlam was already a step ahead of him. She poured the water into a glass and handed it to him. He thanked her as well and took a small sip.

“You need to eat something.” Ahlam reminded him gently, gesturing to Aela. She held a bowl of soup. Kastus grimaced and Ahlam smiled at the expression, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“It’s horker.” Aela said apologetically. Kastus groaned.

“I always hated the rubbery taste.” He muttered, causing Aela to laugh.

“I hate it too.” Aela commented and passed the bowl to him. Ahlam cocked her head before leaving to grab her own plate of food. She returned with two bowls of beef stew, handing one to Aela before siting on the floor.

“Ahlam, sit by me. Don’t sit on the floor.” Kastus said, patting the spot by his hip. She looked up, spoon at her mouth. She nodded and finished what was in the spoon before sitting beside him. Aela moved one of the spare chairs to sit near them as well.

“So, what’s Whiterun like?” Ahlam asked Aela. Aela pursed her lips in thought, tapping the spoon gently against her lip.

“It’s bigger than Riverwood, of course. It’s warm and open. It has a great market and good people. I haven’t been there in years, so I don’t know if the city’s changed. And of course, there is Jorrvaskr, home to the Companions.” At this, Kastus smiled.

“I keep hearing about them. Who are the Companions?” Ahlam asked.

“They are a group of warriors that keep Skyrim safe. You’ve heard of Ysgramor, yes?” Ahlam nodded. “The Companions are based on the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor. I don’t know much about their history, but I’m sure they can explain it to you.”

“And you, Kastus? Do you know their history?” Ahlam turned to him. He shook his head, staring sadly into his soup.

“I only know of how they are the best warriors in all of Skyrim—some wager the best in Tamriel.” Ahlam nodded and asked Aela to continue.

“There is this great tree in the center of the city called the Gildergreen. It’s sacred to Kynareth and I’ve been meaning to see an old friend there. There is also a temple to Her Lady in Whiterun.”

“Is that the only temple in the city?” Ahlam asked. Aela shook her head.

“Most cities have a Hall of the Dead. That is where we Nords bury our dead. Arkay protects the Halls. Some cities have certain temples to a patron god. Riften has Mara and Winterhold has Julianos. Markarth has Dibella. In the capitol city of Solitude, there is the Temple of the Divines. Any of the gods can be worshipped there. It houses all the pantheons quite faithfully. Each are given their own area.

“What about Talos?” Ahlam asked, glancing into her soup. Aela grew silent.

“Ysmir can be worshipped in any true Nord’s home.” Aela replied quickly, hurt. Ahlam nodded slowly and drank her soup.

“Of course. But does the Temple of the Divines have a shrine to Talos?” Aela widened her eyes and sat up straighter. Kastus reached out and gripped Ahlam’s hand in warning.

“You dare insult Talos? His wrath be upon you.”

“Or perhaps his luck.” Ahlam jabbed. Aela narrowed her eyes. “I have felt the luck of many gods; who’s to say that Talos hadn’t blessed me in the form of someone else?” Energy swirled around them both for a moment before Ahlam smiled.

“Still, I know one thing, Aela. You Nords are as stubborn as us Redguards. And I know you will win this war. It might take some time, but you will win it.” Ahlam placed her fist against her heart like a Nord and bowed her head. Kastus quietly stirred his soup and watched both of them.

“I…Thank you, Ahlam. For believing in us. But please don’t talk about Talos like that again.” Aela pleaded.

“Understood.” Ahlam smiled. “I won’t insult Nordic culture if you take care to not joke about the desert.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Aela smiled at her. Kastus exhaled in relief.

The conversation turned to each other’s days. Aela spoke of how she helped at the mill and Ahlam explained she helped a few farmers harvesting their crops. Ahlam had gotten a few Septims out of it and bought a few provisions for the journey tomorrow.

“The farmers gave me a few vegetables and fruit as well, so we have that as well.” Ahlam told them excitedly. Kastus began his story of how he had been able to learn how to smith. He spoke for a long while, adding points and stories that made them slightly confused as to how it related back to smithing.  By the time he had finished his tale, they were yawning. Kastus stretched then and realized he was still in his smithing clothes.

“Ahlam, I think I left my clothes at the forge.” Ahlam shook her head and walked to the chest by his bed. She handed them to him.

“I grabbed them for you, but didn’t think it was right to change you.” He nodded. “C’mon, Aela. Let’s grab the dishes and let Kastus change.” They grabbed the bowls and glasses before Ahlam closed the door behind them.

Kastus striped off his smithing clothes and folded them. He dressed in the long blue tunic and black leggings of the inn. He sat in front of the chest and packed the smithing clothes as well as the clothes Ahlam had brought in into the bag. The red shirt had beautiful detail: purple edging along the cuffs and neckline of the shirt and within the purple were golden knots. He folded the white pants as well.

His boots were already inside the chest, neatly propped against the edge. He smiled and mentally thanked Ahlam. Kastus opened the door, allowing the dim light from the candles to spill into the room. Kastus crawled into the bed. Ahlam came back shortly, smiling wearily at him. She pulled off her shoes and placed them inside the chest.

“Do you need anything?” Ahlam whispered in the darkness. Kastus, eyes already closed and half asleep, shook his head against the pillow. Sleep brushed the shore of his mind. He licked his lips before whispering back to her.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” Ahlam closed the door, plunging the room into total darkness, but he didn’t notice for his eyes were already closed. Within a breath and a half, he was asleep. In his dreams, he heard his brother laughing and felt his arms around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 8,778  
> update: 9 May 2017


	6. Chapter VI — Riverwood [Aela]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aela learns something new about Ralof. Ahlam steals. Kastus helps at the mill.

Aela turned her head to look at Ralof, still asleep. A few strands of his blond hair were curled into his open mouth. She smiled and quietly walked to him. She moved his hair from his mouth and he shifted in his sleep, closing his mouth and grumbling slightly before facing away from her.

Aela smiled softly to herself, lightly shaking her head before taking her seat back at the table. She sipped the black tea in front of her—steeped exactly three minutes. She touched the cotton of her navy dress and admired the embroidery Gerdur had sewn along the sleeves. Aela recalled Gerdur presenting it to her the day after Ralof proposed.

It had been a simple affair; they were packing at camp as Ulfric had given them leave to visit their families. Ralof, courting Aela for months, asked her if she would stay in Riverwood with them. While he had been flustered in the beginning, he regarded her quietly and steadily. Aela flushed and wordlessly nodded.

They were given a single clydesdale to make the journey. Aela sat in front of Ralof, toying with the horse’s mane. She felt Ralof’s hands around her waist and stared at the curled fingers grasping the reigns. She heard his steady breathing and felt him shift.

“Aela, do you want a family?” Aela felt her heart still as Ralof’s voice seemed to come from everywhere. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she thought of her true family; they were as lost to her as the desert of Hammerfell.

“I’ve always wanted one, yes.” Ralof remained silent for a long time. Aela watched his hands tighten and relax against the reigns.

“Would you want to start one with me?” He whispered into her thick hair. Aela grew still and everything felt crystallized. The birds chirped overhead and the sun-dappled leaves painted a mosaic along the green ground. The wind whistled through the swaying trees. The air was sweet and a rabbit crossed their path. The horse calmly walked on in the seemingly endless forest.

Ralof’s breath was warm against her hair and his arms tightened around her waist; she felt his strong chest against her back and wondered if she leaned back, could she sink into him? She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his chest. Aela felt and heard his breath catch before it came out steady. His left hand very carefully touched her waist.

“I would love that, Ralof.” By the time they had reached Riverwood, both were blushing and giddy, overly happy to be engaged. Aela asked when they would marry as they reached the town’s entrance. Ralof grew somber and shrugged.

“After the war is won.” Aela turned to look up at his features in the purple dusk light. Ralof looked straight ahead, seeing something other than his childhood home. Aela brought one of his hands to her lips and kissed it.

“What if one of us perishes before the war ends?” Aela whispered and kept the fear out of her voice. It was unlikely for them both to survive. Ralof pulled her off the horse and held her hands against his chest. The steady and sure rhythm of his heart beat against her hands, calming her. He stared at her. His hair was pulled into a bun and the crescent moon barely showed his feature.

“Nothing—not even death or Sovngarde—will keep me from marrying you. I swear by Talos and the Nine Divines that I will marry you. We will both survive and marry.” Aela blinked back tears and nodded. Her heart beat in her throat, hot and heavy, tasting of molasses. Ralof smiled softly and pulled her into a tight hug. Gerdur welcomed her with open arms and, the next morning, presented the folded gown to her.

“A lass can never have enough dresses. I’m sorry it isn’t very fancy like those nobles and I didn’t know your size, but I can fix that.” Aela squeezed Gerdur tightly.

“Thank you. I’ve never been given a gift like this before. Thank you, Gerdur.” Aela blinked away the memory and finished her cooling tea. As she stood, Ralof shifted in the bed. Glancing over, she saw him open his eyes. He sleepily looked at her.

“G’mornin’.” Ralof said, smiling. Aela smiled back broadly.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s your job to make breakfast.” Ralof looked about confused.

“What time is it?” Aela shrugged. There were no windows in Gerdur’s home.

“Perhaps close to eight? I don’t really know.” Ralof nodded and stretched in the bed. Aela tried to not stare at the tufts of golden chest hair peaking from the furs.

“I didn’t mean to sleep for so long. You should’ve woken me up.” Aela shook her head and walked closer to Ralof.

“You needed your sleep, love.” Aela carded her fingers through his messy hair. Ralof smiled into her hand and clasped her wrist with both of his hands.

“I love when you call me that.” He whispered into the veins of her skin. Aela felt her pulse against his mouth increase. She smiled nervously and pulled back.

“You should get ready.” With a sigh, Ralof sat up to begin his day. They cooked together in the small kitchen. As Aela cut some squares of cheese, she heard Ralof grunt in pain. When she turned her head, she saw Ralof clutching his hand to his chest; his fingers were reddened with a burn. The chicken sizzled in the cast-iron. Aela stepped to him and held out her hand.

“You burned yourself.” Ralof glanced down at her extended hand and had the gall to tighten his hand around his chest. Aela kept her hand outstretched, the unmark palm facing the ceiling and mocking Ralof’s burned fingers.

“It’s nothing.” Ralof insited. Aela raised a brow. He sighed and finally placed his hand in hers. “I swear, you weren’t this stubborn when I met you.” He grumbled.

“No, and you didn’t burn chickens when I met you.” Aela cupped his large, calloused hand in hers and summoned a simple healing spell. The spell flickered a yellow-orange in her hands as the magic danced on her palm.

“Hey! Eran always made the food. I only passed it out.” Ralof exclaimed. The spell spread over Ralof’s hand, cooling his skin and pulling at the burn.

“And usually you dropped it.” Aela retorted. Ralof flushed slightly and tried to stammer a response. Aela laughed and a strand of hair fell into her face. Ralof reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Aela looked up suddenly and the spell vanished. She stared at him and he at her. Finally she blinked and pulled away. “We should pour our food.”

Even as she pulled out dishes, Aela felt Ralof’s hand pass over her hair and ear again and again. _Calm down, Aela. He’s touched you before_. As they sat together, Aela was pleased with the spread of food. There was a whole chicken, a loaf of sourdough bread, some roasted potatoes and carrots as well as goat cheese. Ralof poured mead into two tankards.

“So, we are to head to Whiterun today, right?” Ralof asked, tearing through the chicken with his hands. Aela nodded. He leaned forward and stole some of the cheese from Aela’s plate, chewing thoughtfully. “Do you think the food from Helgen is still good?” Aela shook her head.

“Probably not. If we need to, we can stock up in Whiterun. It isn’t too far of a journey.” Aela drank from her tankard. A leisure hour passed before Aela and Ralof left Gerdur’s home. She changed into her Stormcloak healer robes. It was a simple dark blue dress with half sleeves and a yellow waist apron decorated with the symbol of Kyne. She tied around the Stormcloak cloak around her shoulders.

Ralof stopped her as she stepped outside the door.

“I may not be able to come meet the Jarl with you and the others.” Aela frowned and looked down at his tightened grip on her forearm. He released her after following her gaze. “Ulfric told me to reconvene with him in Windhelm as soon as I am able. I am already able so I thought it best that I head out tonight or whenever we go.” Aela nodded slowly.

Aela knew that Ulfric would soon be gathering his forces to deal with the dragon attack, but hadn’t expected it the next day. _How fast does word travel_? _And why did he not call me_? Ulfric praised Aela on many occasions as being their best healer. She remembered the first time he told her—the snow was cold underfoot and the moans of the ill and dying were louder than the chilling wind. She had stammered in the short conversation and he had laughed so loudly that the wind and moans seemed to die down in that moment.

“Give Ulfric my regards.” Aela said, bowing her head slightly before stepping out of the house. Gerdur was at the mill, overseeing Hod and Kastus. Hod moved logs to the mill to be cut in half while Kastus was chopping wood into smaller firewood sized logs. A few women gathered around the exterior of the mill, giggling loudly. Aela frowned before noticing Kastus’s lack of a shirt. She chuckled to herself. _The day girls are in love with a scrawny Breton is a day indeed_. Aela had to admit that Kastus was handsome, however slim he was.

“Gerdur! Tell Kastus to put his shirt back on! He’ll have more marriage proposals than coin at the end of the day at this rate.” Aela shouted as she approached Gerdur. Gerdur laughed and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Ah, let the girls enjoy their summer love and let him do his work in peace.” Gerdur placed an arm around Aela’s shoulders; she laughed.

“What can I do to help you, then?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Gerdur gently pushed Aela away from the mill and Aela clicked her tongue in irritation. Gerdur always insisted that she needed help but refused Aela’s help. “I don’t want you having calloused hands; you should have soft hands to hold your sons.” Gerdur always explained.

“Gerdur, I’ve held axes and swords; I’ve wielded farming tools since I could stand. My hands are as calloused as yours. Besides, my sons will love me no matter how calloused my hands are.”

“I know, I know.” Gerdur squeezed Aela’s hands tightly and sounded distant. Despite all the work, the constant use of magic had healed most of the callouses from Aela’s hands. “You should check on your friends and make sure they don’t need anything before heading out. Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Most likely within the week. We just have to speak to the Jarl and bring soldiers here to protect the town. I will stay here as long as I can until Ulfric calls for me. And Kastus will remain in Whiterun with the Companions and Ahlam… will go back to Hammerfell.” Aela’s voice trailed off; her heart thumped with sadness. _Surely there is more to us than just this?_

“Aela?” Gerdur spoke quietly and brought Aela from her worry. She smiled at the maternal figure and placed her head on Gerdur’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. I’m going to head to the Lucan’s. Do you need anything?” Gerdur shook her head. “All right. I’ll tell Lucan hello from you.” Aela glanced back at Gerdur, who stood with hands clutching her arms. Aela stared for a moment longer to commit the green dress against the brown of the bark of the trees and the blues of the water to memory.

Aela stepped into the Riverwood Trader and was greeted by the voices of Lucan and Camilla Valerius arguing spilled out into the relatively quiet street. _Something was stolen? But it wasn’t worth much?_ Aela payed very little attention as the Valerius siblings always squabbled. She grabbed a basket off of the floor.

Aela walked about in the store, familiar with every section. First, she went to her favorite section. A solitary, creaky bookcase full of dusty tomes loomed overhead. One shelf was dedicated to spellbooks. She read the titles of the tomes and her eyes widened with desire for those spells.

There was Candlelight and Clairvoyance, two very handy spells. Courage was a bright red book and Aela knew it would help both the injured soldiers and the fit soldiers. Another tome Aela saw was Frostbite, yet another Destruction spell.

Aela bit her lip, ignoring the other tomes. _I don’t have enough money for even one_! _Perhaps the combined amount of our coin will be enough_? … _I shouldn’t ask them for their money_ ; _that’s unfair_. Aela walked away dejected to the small shelf of potions. She grabbed a few healing, Magicka, and stamina potions, placing them into the basket.

Remembering Kastus and Ahlam, Aela walked to a section she often ignored, the armory and weapons area. While the shop was no real armory, there was occasionally something worthwhile. Today, hanging above the mantlepiece was a Dwarven bow. Aela stared, mesmerized, and knew who needed the bow.

“Lucan!” Aela called and pointed to the shining metal. “Lucan, this bow.” Lucan grumbled and walked over. He frowned at it before nodding slowly.

“Oh, yeah, that. There was a rare shipment full of Dwarven crafts coming in from Markarth. Most of it went to Whiterun, but I wanted to bow. It was a battle convincing them to let me have it.” Aela tuned out his long explanation.

“How much?” She said shortly. Lucan rubbed his chin.

“I’d say…one thousand and five hundred Septims. That’s going to be the cheapest I’ll go.” Aela paled. _I’m not even close to that_! Aela glanced around and saw a few quivers of arrows as well as a sword. On closer inspection, the sword was iron. Aela pointed at the quivers.

“How much are these three quivers full of steel arrows?” She figured she could at least bring Ahlam some arrows.

“Each quiver holds forty arrows. Give me fifteen Septims for ‘em.” Aela nodded and handed Lucan one hundred coins; fifteen for the quivers and the rest for the potions. Aela felt how light her coin purse was now with the remaining one hundred Septims.

Aela walked out of the Trader and headed towards the inn. By this point, the sun was nearing eleven. _If we leave now_ , _we’ll get there at dusk_. _Maybe later_. Aela heard a familiar dog bark and looked up to see Stump, Frodnar, and young Dorthe laughing gayly, pointing at something out of sight. Aela stepped forward and saw Ahlam running around the corner.

“I’m gonna catch you!” The children ran away with their might, laughing. Aela laughed as well.

“Got you!” Ahlam yelled, grabbing Dorthe’s shoulder. The girl giggled and promptly began running after Frodnar. Ahlam used the distraction to escape back into the shadow of the inn and sat down on the bench. Aela walked to Ahlam; her eyes were closed and her head rested against the wood of the inn. There was healthy flush in Ahlam’s skin and sweat along her temples. A few strands of her hair were stuck to her cheek.

“I assume you’re enjoying your afternoon?” Aela asked as she sat beside her. Ahlam shifted over with her eyes closed. Ahlam chuckled and pushed back the loose strands of hair over the crown of her head.

“Of course. They wanted to play tag and who was I to refuse?” Ahlam smiled and opened her startling golden eyes. “Are we leaving today?” Aela shrugged.

“We should ask Kastus first. If we were to leave now, it would be past dark.” Ahlam nodded and stretched.

“What did you buy?” Aela blinked and looked down at her feet where the basket lay. She had forgotten it upon seeing Ahlam with the children.

“I got something for you.” Aela placed a quiver in her two palms, wanting Ahlam to take it. Instead, Ahlam raised a brow and took out a single arrow. She stared down the shaft of the arrow. “There was this beautiful bow, but I did not have the money for it.” Aela looked away in shame. Ahlam shook her head and put the arrow back into the quiver.

“No, these are great. Steel arrows. Much better than iron.” Ahlam grinned at Aela and reached out to hug her. Aela gently placed her arms around Ahlam before they broke apart. “Thank you. This means a lot to me. Come. We should find Kastus and ask him of the plan.” Aela nodded and lead the way to the mill.

They found him easily and Kastus shouted that they should sit privately. Ahlam glanced at Aela in confusion, who shrugged, but still lead the way to where they had discussed the dragon the previous night.

“We leave tomorrow morning since it will be late if we leave now.” Aela nodded, agreeing. Ahlam crossed her arms. Kastus wiped his forehead and pushed his hair from his eyes. He was doused in sweat and Aela could see that his muscles ached from the work. She was just about to ask him if she could heal him when Gerdur appeared, pitcher and glass in hand.

Kastus stood up and thanked her immensely before drinking deeply. Gerdur nodded and left them to discuss.

“It would be wiser,” Ahlam held her chin in thought, “less likely to encounter wolves and giant spiders.” Kastus chocked on the water and Aela rushed to him, rubbing his back. Ahlam laughed freely and Kastus glared at her.

“We should be on the road by eight, then. Nine at the very latest.” Aela said, sending small amounts of healing magic into Kastus. He relaxed under her.

“Someone’s carrying me on the way, then.” Ahlam said simply. Aela glanced at her quizzically and Kastus chuckled, wiping the water from his lip.

“She sleeps late, usually until nine.”

“On good days!” Ahlam added hastily. “I’ll do my best to be ready by eight, but I don’t guarantee anything.” Aela chuckled slightly and nodded.

“Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, we head out.” Kastus stood up and handed Ahlam the glass and pitcher. She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.

“If you guys wish to buy supplies, head to the Trader’s before dusk. I mainly bought potions, but there may be something you two find usefully. I wish I could’ve gotten the spell tomes.” Aela sighed.

“Any specific book you wanted?” Ahlam asked quietly, looking into the town. Kastus frowned at the back of her head before turning away as though embarrassed. Aela glanced at the two of them and hesitantly answered.

“I saw a number of books. Clairvoyance, Courage, Forstbite. I think there was Candlelight or Magelight; I don’t remember which.” Ahlam nodded slowly and absorbed the information.

“Is there anything you need, Kastus?”

“No.” He replied harshly. Ahlam calmly inhaled. Aela watched the two of them, separated and tense. She wondered what was the cause of their friction. Ahlam turned, startling Aela. 

“Come to the inn before you retire for the night.” Ahlam stated before heading into town. Aela frowned and stepped towards Kastus. He was studying the water, arms crossed, and purposefully not looking at her.

“What happened between you two?” Kastus sighed and met her gaze. Aela saw sadness and the hint of regret.

“She was the thief from Ivarstead. She’s going to steal those books for you.” Aela shook her head.

“I believe people change.” Kastus scoffed and shook his head.

“No, they don’t.” Silence overtook them. The river rushed and the sun warmed them. The wind blew and Aela watched Kastus’s hair shake in the wind. He still watched the water as though debating to dive in. Kastus exhaled and walked back to the mill without another word.

Alone at the White River, Aela kneeled in front of it. It rushed forward, carrying all life with it. She dipped her hand in the cold, rushing current. She cupped the water and placed her forehead against her cool, wet palm.

“Hear me, Kynareth. I know Ahlam cannot be changed in her thieving ways, but please, keep her safe for as long as you can. Talos, give Kastus strength and good fortune. He is good like you and must remain so; please let his heart not be hardened by ill deeds. When I arrive at Whiterun, I shall make an offering to you both. Just bring rain and thunder so I may not forget. Thank you.” Aela sat by the water for a few moments, enjoying the breeze and water before walking back to Gerdur’s home.

She walked across the bridge connecting the mill to the proper town and overhead two familiar voices. Aela quietly walked to the gate of Riverwood and peaked around the corner. Ralof held his arms tightly. His pants were rolled up and Aela knew he had been fishing. He still remained in the water, but Gerdur stood on the bank. Her arms were akimbo and the hem of her dress was muddied.

Aela leaned against the stone gate and peered around the corner. Her stomach was knotted; her throat was dry; and her heart hammered like a bird trying to escape a cage. She knew something was wrong despite all the times she had seen the siblings speak. _It is fine; all is fine. Nothing is wrong. Please, let nothing be wrong._

“Gerdur, please.” Ralof pleaded and Aela felt her heart shatter. She had never heard him so sad and broken. “I know you want me to stay by her side, but I can’t. Ulfric called me to fight. He needs me.”

“More than your wife?” Gerdur’s voice was hard. Aela wished she had Clairvoyance so she could see him in that instance. She wondered if he had turned his head away in shame. “Your duty is to her before it is to Ulfric.”

“But he is the High King!”

“Not yet.” Her voice was final.

“And she isn’t my wife _yet_.” Aela inhaled sharply and blinked back tears. Ralof had never sounded so angry and bitter at their proposal. _He had been the one—!_ Gerdur sighed and Aela leaned against the gate, turning away from them.

“Listen, my brother. You are my everything, but do not be a fool, _please_! If Ulfric loses this war— _if_ he does—then you will have a High Queen instead.” Aela could feel Gerdur’s warm hand against his chest. “But Aela, sweet gentle Aela, will still be there. You may lose Ulfric in the war,” Ralof gave out a cry of grief. “You may lose him, but do you wish to lose her as well?” There was such a long pause, Aela wondered if Ralof had burst into tears and was unable to speak.

“I wish to be with him, more than anything.” Ralof choked out, anguish louder than the White River. Aela felt her own heart shatter from his pain. It was not from the revelation that he loved another but that he was in pain for not being with his own beloved. _I will call it off_.

“I know. And he is your High King before anything else. But you know you cannot be with him. You love Aela. It might be less than your love for Ulfric, but it is still love. Give your heart to someone who will cherish it as their own. Give it to someone who can love you back without shame. Aela will be there for you, but Ulfric…he has ambitions and you remember what mother used to say about ambitious men?” Aela heard the smile in Gerdur’s voice.

“Never marry an ambitious man for he will leave you for his own gain.” Ralof’s voice was rough with tears. Aela tasted her own tears and blinked in surprise. She wiped her eyes and quickly walked away from the gate towards Gerdur’s home. _Ralof and Ulfric? He never told me._

Aela thought Ulfric handsome, but not enough to tempt her. In fact, she felt more admiration to him than anything else. She liked that he commanded a room before even stepping into it, or the way he could lower his voice to a whisper and still one could hear it in the stables on the outskirts of Windhelm. But the issue she had with him was the desire to be all-powerful and like Talos. _He doesn’t know his own destiny and should not assume he does_.

Ralof, however, was more handsome, braver, and, dare she say it, smarter than Ulfric. While Ulfric was strategic, Ralof worked the best on the field, coming up with impromptu directions when the war plans failed. Ralof already had a close companionship with the soldiers, and they followed him happily. Ulfric prompted Ralof to Bone-Breaker, allowing him to stand with some of the best men of the war.

Absorbed in thought, Aela bumped into someone. She mumbled an apology and glanced up to see whom she had walked into. An agile, hooded figure sprinted away from her, towards the back of the inn. Aela frowned before resuming her slow place to the house. _Will Ralof ever tell me his love for Ulfric_? Her thoughts stopped suddenly when she collided with the door, falling flat on her rear.

“Ow.” Aela mumbled, rubbing her nose. The door opened and Hod looked down at her. He knelt down and helped her stand.

“Aela, are you all right?” She nodded, continuing to rub her nose. “Did you run into the door again?” She nodded again, slowly and embarrassed. Hod laughed, big and loud as always. That was their code for when Hod opened the door on her.

He ushered her instead. “Come now, I’m sure you came to pack and not run into a door. Have you decided when you are leaving?” Aela stepped into the warm house with Hod’s hands at her shoulder.

“We decided tomorrow.” Hod nodded and walked off to eat something. Aela went to the traveling bag and packed all the potions she had collected. She pulled out the food form Helgen and sorted through it. Most of the vegetables would be of more use to Gerdur, so Aela packed the few apples, plums, and other berries.

 _See, Ralof? We don’t need to take anything from Gerdur. This will last us until we reach Whiterun!_ Aela bit at Ralof in her mind. She sighed and sat down on her haunches. _How can one man make me feel so much_? Aela shook her head in an attempt to dispel the thoughts. With tired hands, she packed spare clothing and her jeweled comb—her only keepsake from her original family, or so her adoptive parents told her.

Aela left Hod to his reading and walked outside. The sun was well past its peak, nearing two. _Have I spent so much of my day in thought?_ Aela thought to herself. She walked to the inn and found Ahlam sitting in a chair. She sat with her legs extended, ankles crossed at the stone guard of the fire pit. The fire licked at the bare soles of her feet.

A patron grumbled and walked around Ahlam for she blocked part of the walkway; the only way to the bar was over her or around the other side of the hearth. Aela ventured closer and noticed the sight of a familiar emblem on the book Ahlam read. A bird stretched its wings to the heavens.

“You’re learning to heal?” Aela asked. Ahlam nodded slowly, chewing on carrot. Aela pulled up a chair close to Ahlam, blocking the path further. _Hopefully Delphine won’t mind; it’s not like anyone is here._ Aela spared a glance around the inn and, other than two other people, no one was there.

“Most of us hate magic, but healing is acceptable. Temples taught people how to harness the magic for free, but so many of us are superstitious that we didn't go.” Ahlam looked up from the text. “I figured I should learn since you two seem to know. It just seems wise.” Aela nodded and agreed with the reasoning.

“There are a few other basic spells you should learn. Flames and Oakflesh for starters.” Ahlam chuckled and shook her head.

“Like I said, most of us hate magic. It’ll take some time for me to accept any other kind of spells.” Aela sat back dejected. Ahlam quietly turned the page.

“Ahlam, you asked that I come here.” Ahlam nodded but did not speak. Aela sighed and glanced at Orgnar at the bar. He walked to her with a bottle of mead. “What’s the stew tonight?”

“Beef. Ain’t completely done yet” Orgnar grunted. Aela nodded.

“I’ll have a bowl anyway, please.” He nodded and left. Aela looked at the still reading Ahlam. Orgnar returned with the wooden bowl full of beef stew; she thanked him and attempted to hand him ten Septims. Orgnar narrowly avoided her, claiming he had to clean the bar.

Aela ate the warm meal, feeling pleased despite the rough morning. Here she was, a warm fire at her back, hot stew in her belly, a friend trying to learn in front of her. As if on cue, the door opened. Aela saw Kastus walking inside, smiling. He brought over a chair to sit at Ahlam’s right and across from Aela. They were cramped, but not uncomfortably.

Orgnar brought Kastus a bowl of beef stew and a tankard of ale. Kastus thanked him and began to eat with Aela. Aela mostly listened to Kastus talk about his day. When he asked about hers, she gave a shrug a smile, and a small answer, veering the conversation back to him. Every time she did this, she felt Ahlam look at her. But the Redguard’s gaze would be at the text when she looked up.

“We should count our coin. See how much we have for travel.” Aela suggested, reaching for her purse. Ahlam’s voice stopped her.

“Do that in the room, away from prying eyes.” Aela and Kastus looked at her in surprise before glancing at each other. Slowly, they rose and began to walk towards the rented room. Ahlam lagged behind, book still in hand. As Ahlam sat on the bed, the book faded from her hands. Aela and Kastus turned their heads and waited patiently. Ahlam frowned and flexed her hands, curling them. Slowly, ever so slowly, dull yellow light came from her hands. She broke into a sweat but did not stop looking at her hands.

“Make sure to breathe.” Kastus said after taking note of her tightened lips. Ahlam forced a breath from her nose. The spell slowly covered her palms but did not extend further. Ahlam gritted her teeth and then the spell receded from her hands. She frowned and looked at her hands, before trying to summon the spell again. She began to cough.

“You’re out of Magicka,” Aela said, jumping up to rub her back. “You need to eat something and rest. I’ll bring you a potion to make you feel better.” Ahlam nodded, confused. Aela walked back into the main room. The chairs were still where they left them and Orgnar looked at her in disappointment. “I’ll clean it up; don’t worry.” He shook his head.

“Not your job.” Aela shrugged. “Let me guess, need a bowl of stew for Ahlam?” Aela nodded and Orgnar walked to the back, where the kitchens were. Aela tapped the bar, waiting on him. Eventually, he appeared with the bowl of stew and a plate of grilled leeks and goat cheese. She raise her brow. “It’s for Ahlam.” Orgnar didn’t meet her gaze, skin slightly flushed. Aela took the plate without another word.

Aela was greeted with Ahlam groaning loudly. Kastus turned to her with a soft smile. Aela placed the food down on the nightstand.

“Please tell Ahlam she did a good job.” Kastus gestured to their friend, who lay on her back, hand over her eyes. Aela chuckled.

“You really did exceptionally well for your first time. I’ve never seen someone bring out a healing spell that far.”

“I told you! I remember when I first summoned, it only stayed at my knuckles. It wouldn’t even cover my whole hand!” Aela laughed then, turning to Kastus. Here was a man she had met but two days ago and already she felt at home with him. It was the warmth in his hazel eyes and his easy smile in his thin lips. It was his full beard and his long hair—with a strand that was braided. It was the war paint that resembled Stendarr’s anvil being struck, but far more creative; it followed the natural curve of his beard and was just bright enough to intrigue, but not enough to startle. All of him felt like home.

“You weren’t that bad.” Aela insisted, but Kastus simply shrugged.

“Restoration has never been my strong suit.” Ahlam sat agitated in the chair; her hands were balled into fists.

“Why was it yellow?” Her voice was low, teeming with anger. Aela looked at her in surprise. “The book said nothing of that.”

“The color changes depending on how strong it is as well as what you are drawing energy from.” Aela soothed her. Ahlam frowned. “What were you thinking of?”

“The sun.” Ahlam answered quickly.

“See? That’s yellow.” Kastus said proudly. Aela chuckled and nodded. “So, we need to count our coin, yes?” Aela nodded and tossed her coin purse to him. Kastus set to work, mixing the Septims on the floor. Ahlam ate as Kastus counted.

“The two of us collectively have about a five hundred.” He said after a moment. Aela nodded, thinking about how to ration that on the way up to Whiterun. Ahlam’s chuckled and startled the other two. She held onto a leek before placing it down.

“Double that.” They stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving. “Let me show you.” She reached for her bag and turned it upside down. Countless spell tomes, a handful of spare coins, five full coin purses, the Dwarven bow, three quivers full of steel arrows, fine necklaces and jeweled rings, two steel swords, and a fish fell to the floor. Kastus and Aela stared in disbelief.

“Ahlam.” Aela’s voice was cautious. “Did you steal all of this?” Ahlam held the fish by its tail and examined it. It was a Histcarp.

“You wanted the spell tomes, right? Learn the spells then; we head out in the morning.” Aela narrowed her eyes and stepped forward. “If you ask me about my profession again,” Ahlam pulled a dagger out and placed it against the neck of the dead fish, “I won’t be scared to show you what I can do.”

“You were the one running…” Aela mumbled and sat down on Kastus’s bed. Kastus frowned and Ahlam tossed the fish to the floor. It landed against a spell tome and Aela saw into its mouth; it was turning purple, diseased. “I should’ve stopped you.”

“Didn’t you want the books?” Ahlam asked accusingly. Aela shook her head and Kastus placed his hand on Aela’s shoulder.

“Aela, let’s just learn the spells. It’s better that we’re prepared. Besides Ahlam did this out of the… _kindness_ of her heart.” Kastus glanced at Ahlam who stared at her meal. “Strange as it may be, we should accept it.” Aela nodded her head slowly, unsure of how to accept the strange gift. Kastus rubbed her back.

“I understand that you don’t trust me. You would be wrong if you did. But I’m damn good at what I do. And I’ve been thieving since I was a kid. My tribesmen couldn’t find things sometimes, thinking they had misplaced it when in reality I had just moved it. Then when they discovered it was me, I got a beating. I didn’t learn and I got in trouble with one of the Chiefs—never did like him—and they burned…” Ahlam trailed off and placed a hand on her right hip. She shook her head. “Not that it matters. What matters is how quick I am and how worthy the prize is.

“As for you two, I suggest that you read quickly. There are a lot of spells here and I don’t want them disappearing before both of you learn them. It took a long time to get them all.” Ahlam reclined on the bed and placed her arm over her eyes. Kastus picked a book at random: Frostbite. Aela and Kastus began to read the book.

Hours passed as Aela and Kastus studied. They were covered in a fine sheen of sweat from all the spells they had produced in a short amount of time. _I need to eat,_ Aela thought and her stomach growled in agreement. Aela and Kastus stood, wobbly and sore. Ahlam raised a brow at them, making sure neither would pass out. She had been their test dummy for certain Alteration spells, like Fury and Courage. For the Destruction spells, they had used the dead fish. By the end, the fish was obliterated and left an unremovable mark on the floor.

“I would like to retire for the day.” Aela spoke quietly. Kastus nodded and Ahlam stood up. She extended her hand to Aela.

“Would you like me to walk you to your house?” Aela shook her head and held the doorknob tightly. She felt woozy.

“I think I can make it, thank you. Goodnight.” Ahlam nodded and slowly sat down on her bed.

“Goodnight, Aela.” Kastus called after her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Ahlam smiled at Aela, who nodded before leaving.

The walk to Gerdur’s house was long and hard. She walked slowly and nearly fell down at one point, but finally she made it to the door. She knocked and leaned against the doorframe. The door opened and she looked into Ralof’s eyes

The warmth she had carried from the company of her friends disappeared. It was replaced with exhaustion and sadness. The conversation from earlier flooded back into her mind and she paused. His blue eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were sorrowful and weary. He opened his mouth as though to say something—worry was written all over his features—but he closed his mouth and looked away.

Aela said nothing to Ralof. She passed by him, making sure not to touch him, and headed to the bath without speaking to anyone. She let the water restore her energy, half-thanking Kynareth for healing her. She pulled her hair down, letting it pool around her. Aela closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rim. Her stomach grumbled and her muscles and mind tore at each other in exhaustion. _Let me close my eyes for a minute_.

“Aela!” A voice called. Aela languidly opened her eyes. She blinked once, feeling sleep cling to her like the cool water. She sat up then, realizing she had fallen asleep. Someone knocked against the door, heavy. “Aela, are you all right? You’ve been in there for an hour!” Gerdur yelled. Aela shook her head, willing the desire to sleep to vanish.

“Aela? Aela, can you hear me?” A softer voice asked through the door. Her heart leapt into her throat and she bravely swallowed it.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry to worry you.” Aela strained to hear another sound, but there was no reply. _Perhaps they had walked away from the door_. Aela looked down at her hands in the moving water. _Here, one could not see the wrinkles and faults in my fingers_. She brought her heads into the air by her face to examine them. Her eyes began to water. _Here, one can see every flaw._

Aela did not blink back the tears and let them slide down her cheeks, silently. She had always been a silent weeper; only when she spoke was it apparent. After a moment, she steadied her breathing by counting to fifty. She wiped her tears off before leaving the tub and dried herself off.

Aela entered the main room where they ate. The chatter of the family became nonexistent. Ralof did not look up when she sat beside him.

“Why’d ya take so long, Aela? Doing lady business?” Hod joked. Aela smiled at him. No matter what happened, Hod was always a loving, happy man. He was the best father figure in her life since her real father had abandoned her—or at least, that’s what her adoptive parents had told her.

“No, actually, I fell asleep.” Hod laughed.

“That’s a first. Will that be our new running joke?” Hod chuckled. Aela smiled but felt nothing.

“I hope not. I could’ve died.” And just like that, Hod’s smile disappeared. The fire crackled and no one moved to eat.

“I—” Aela looked up at Ralof; he was staring down at his plate, fork in a tight grip. In the light of the fire, Aela admired the beauty of Ralof’s profile, feeling like a fraud for being in love with him. “I will travel with you to Whiterun. I will stay with you and return home with you. Ulfric doesn’t need me.”

Gerdur remained silent as she poured cut a section of the hen they ate. She poured out the roasted vegetables on the side of the plate and handed Aela the plate. Aela reached for the bread and goat cheese without breaking her gaze from the side of Ralof’s head. She stared at Ralof with such intensity that he shifted in his chair. _He still hasn’t looked at me._

“I’m sorry Ulfric doesn’t need you.” Her voice came out flatter than she intended. Ralof flinched and she closed her eyes. She breathed deeply and counted to ten. “He will call upon you when he needs you, my sweet.” She amended, attempting to make her voice sound like icing. Ralof nodded and looked at her. His blue eyes almost startled her; still full of worry, there was an unspoken apology in them. She always thought the worry was because of the war, but she had been wrong all these years. It had been because he was in love with the Jarl of Windhelm.

“Gerdur, the bread.” Hod mumbled and Gerdur did as her husband asked. They settled into an odd rhythm of eating and not speaking. Halfway through the meal, Aela felt Ralof’s hand on her thigh. She tightened her body, but he did not move his hand invitingly. After a moment, she placed her hand upon his and laced her fingers. Ralof relaxed and conversation sprung up by the end of the meal.

The moon was high in the sky by the time they had all washed and gone to sleep. Aela crawled into bed, pulling the furs to her neck. She yawned, exhausted from the day and wanted nothing more than sleep.

“Aela.” Ralof whispered in the dark. Aela opened her eyes. She searched for Ralof’s face in the dark. His bed was against the door, close to the door. She looked at her feet and saw him clearly. He was sitting up, staring right at her. The light from the moon struck his mouth and hands in lines, but all else was covered in darkness. “Aela, are you awake?”

“Yes.” She whispered back. Ralof remained silent and she began dozing off.

“You know that I love you, right? Nothing in this world will change that.” Aela opened her eyes and sat up. She saw nothing but resolve in his eyes.

“I love you too, Ralof.” And she meant it. From the magic that ran through her veins to the softness of her skin, she loved him. With quick movement, he threw off his furs and walked straight to her. Confused, she frowned. And then he held her face and kissed her.

His lips were warm and sweet—from the ale, she thought. As she leaned into him, he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“Goodnight.” He grinned, walking back to his bed. Aela laid down and felt her face. She traced her lips in the dark. _Ralof has never kissed me before. Had he kissed_ —Aela closed her eyes. _No. I won’t think of that. This is my happiness and_ he _can’t have it._

Aela dreamt of bright green fields, full of tall grass and colorful butterflies. A group of children played hide-and-seek. Two blond boys held hands, and decided to hide in the tall grass. They shifted in the light, turning into older men kissing before she was one of the men, kissing Ralof and holding the hilt of his sword. He turned away before fading into someone else, someone younger and less sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 7,459


	7. Chapter VII — Traveling to Whiterun [Ahlam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A race, a duel, some rain, and a new friend?

Ahlam felt the warmth enveloping her, reminding her of her uncle’s hand passing through her hair. She could taste the sweetness of the mangos, and hear her father singing along with the rest of the family. The smell of the temple of Tall Papa—saffron, incense, holy oils—rushed past her and changed into the dry wind. 

Suddenly, the cold seized her with impatient hands. Ahlam gasped and opened her eyes. _Too bright_. She glared at her attacker; Frodnar jumped back in fear. Ahlam sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She sat up and pulled the furs around her shoulders.

“Sorry, Frodnar. I didn’t mean…” She shook her head and reached for him. He remained a step away. She sighed and cleared her throat. “What did you need?”

“We-we…” Tears swelled in his eyes, but he bit his lips in an attempt to control his emotions. “We were supposed to play hide-and-seek today. You promised yesterday.” Ahlam shook her head.

“I did not promise. I said I would like to.” Frodnar bawled his hands into fists and shook his head in refusal. Ahlam waited.

“That doesn’t matter. You didn’t show up.”

“Frodnar. When I make a promise, I keep it.” She subtly changed her posture to seem more imposing: a narrowing of the eyes, a straighter back, hands gripping each other, and her head tilted down. The boy stared at her for a moment in fear before looking away. He fidgeted and moved the weight on his feet. “Let me make you a true promise.” Ahlam leaned forward, taking away all her commanding authority and replacing it with affection.

“What?” His voice shook and his tears threatened to overspill. Ahlam smiled at him.

“When I come back to Riverwood, I’ll play hide-and-seek with you. I promise this to you.” Frodnar looked into Ahlam’s unblinking eyes before nodding slowly.

“Okay. Come back soon!” He smiled at her and gave her a hug. She barely wrapped her arms around him before he was sprinting out of the room. Ahlam watched the door swing from his movement. She hugged her knees. _I know that feeling Frodnar, the lonely hours of nothing_.

The feeling of loneliness intensified by the cold. Ahlam shook her head and shivered. _Damn Skyrim and its coldness_. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. She picked at her night clothes. _I hope Whiterun has a tailor because I honestly don’t want to steal these clothes_. Grumbling, she changed into the white dress with the red smock while keeping the cotton hose on from the inn.

Feeling warmer as she pulled the boots on, Ahlam smiled. She checked to make sure she had packed everything. She felt for her golden bangle against her bicep as habit and felt nothing. _Right_. _I need to ask the Jarl if he received any equipment from Helgen_. She noted that her alchemy book as well as the Dwarven bow, handcrafted dagger and bow Kastus made, as well as the quivers were in the bag among other countless things she had stolen.

Ahlam glanced around the barren room once more. _Sep_ , _keep me safe_. Ahlam felt odd asking the Snake for protection but had a feeling she needed his gaze. With that, she left the room and walked into the main hall. It was empty and Ahlam stole a few strips of beef. She ate as she left.

The sky was bright blue and the sun warmed the earth. A few birds chirped and there was a pleasant breeze. Ahlam smiled. _Something good is going to happen today_. She walked towards the mill, spying Ralof standing with his arms crossed. Aela stood next to him, and Kastus had his back to Ahlam, sitting on a tree stump. As she neared them, eating the beef, their conversation died off. Ralof waved at her and Kastus turned his head.

“Are we all ready?” Ahlam asked, fingers glistening with fat.

“We should be. Do you want to wear your traveling cloak?” Kastus asked and gestured to the bag. Ahlam blinked before rummaging through the bag. She found a grey, woolen traveling cloak that matched Kastus’s. “They’re a bit itchy.”

“I don’t mind,” Ahlam said and tied it around her shoulders. With that, they headed towards Whiterun. Aela and Ralof took the lead, holding hands. Ahlam slowed their pace as they stopped to pick flowers and fungi, tasting them at each turn. Once, she tore a butterfly in half.

“Hey, don’t give me that.” Ahlam glared at her companions, who stared at her in shock. She made a display of eating the yellow wing. She placed it on her tongue and it slowly dissolved into sweetness. Ahlam began to sketch the butterfly—a few swirled around them—and noted its restore health effect.

“So, are you going to eat all these butterflies or can the rest of us enjoy their beauty?” Ralof teased. Ahlam stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oh, shut up! I’m gonna make you the best damn potion you’ve ever had and it’ll only be made from butterflies!” Ralof laughed loudly and looked down at Aela, smiling brightly. She smiled back softly. Ahlam looked at the two of them fondly before turning her gaze to Kastus.

In the morning light, she was able to admire him. Kastus was naturally lean, but he was just as imposing as any warrior. His feet were sure and his steps were even. His nose looked like an Imperial’s—curved as though someone had beat him—and his eyes were hazel and twinkled with confidence. His cupid’s bow was naturally exaggerated and drew one’s eyes to it. His beard was thick and brown, almost black. His hair was the same dark brown; today, he had braided it completely. The same red war paint was once again on his left cheek, disappearing into his sideburn. It was a decorative drinking horn pouring out wine—the symbol of Stendarr.

“When do you think we’ll reach Whiterun?” Kastus asked as they climbed a small hill.

“In the evening, most likely.” Ralof answered. “It takes a few hours to reach the city with this path.”

“We would get their faster if we ran.” Ahlam slyly suggested a race, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Aela frowned, while Kastus and Ralof looked intrigued.

“I suppose.” Aela said slowly, considering. “But we’ll ruin the lovely day.” Ahlam gave her a sly grin and a shrug.

“How about a short footrace then? To that tree?” Ahlam pointed to a tree a hundred meters away. Aela and Kastus glanced at each other, knowing Ahlam had some kind of trick, but Ralof looked excited.

Ahlam threw her bag down on the ground, a taunt in it of itself. Kastus quickly followed suit; the desire to beat her was clear. Ralof shrugged, and eagerly did the same. Aela sighed loudly and reluctantly pulled off the bag. They undid their traveling cloaks, placing them on their respective bags.

“Ready…” Ahlam began. Ralof tensed and Ahlam exhaled. Kastus rolled his shoulders and Aela grimaced. “Go!”

It took them two minutes to reach the tree in question. By the time all of them touched the hard bark of the slim tree, Aela and Kastus were out of breath. Even Ralof’s cheeks were flushed, but he kept his breathing under control. Only Ahlam smiled at them, breathing even and cheeks their natural dark color. She leaned against the tree with her arms crossed.

“I have to admit, Ralof, I didn’t think you could keep up with me. But you were right at my heels!” She laughed. “I honestly thought Kastus would be behind me; who would’ve guessed he would be last!”

“Hey! I got short legs.” Kastus whined. He was bent over with his hands on his knees.

“But you’re taller than me.” Ahlam chided, raising a brow. Kastus stood straight and tried to control his breathing.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Ralof accused and pointed a finger at Ahlam. She pushed it away and grinned. Ralof grinned back.

“Of course I did. I knew I could beat you.” Ahlam walked away to where the bags and cloaks were. She tied her cloak and slung her bag on her shoulders. Then, one by one, she picked up each of her companions’ bags as well as their traveling cloaks.

“Ahlam,” Kastus cried out in worry, “don’t carry all of them yourself!” He jogged to her. She clearly strained with the weight. Her tendons shifted in the light and her muscles were taut; she continued to adjust the weight in her hands. Still, stubbornly, she walked towards them without heeding Kastus’s warning. Ralof watched her with a cool eye and she kept her gaze on him.

Without turning her head, she handed Kastus his bag and cloak and wretched her hand away when he attempted to help her. Ahlam walked to the rock Aela sat on and placed the bag calmly in her hands, handing her the cloak afterwards. Ahlam turned to Ralof. He outstretched his hand. She walked a few steps but was still too far to hand him the bag. Instead, she tossed it at his feet; she curled his cloak into a ball and tossed it at him, which he caught at his waist.

“There. Now we’re even, Ralof.” Ahlam, slightly out of breath, stared at Ralof. He barely nodded before she turned to Aela. “So, breakfast?” Aela chuckled and nodded. She set out a blanket for them, underneath the tree and began to pull out food for them. Kastus helped her. Ralof threw his arm around Ahlam’s shoulder.

“You know, the guys would love you. Back at camp, I mean. You would fit right in.” Ahlam looked up at him in surprise.

“Really?” Ralof nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, yeah. You’d make all the lads nervous and the girls would be jealous!” Ralof laughed and sat down. Ahlam took her spot to Kastus’s left and they began to eat breakfast. Aela had packed them dried beef and cheese—which Ahlam mostly fought for with Ralof—as well as bread. Ahlam insisted on delaying their journey for nearly an hour and a half.

“Why?” Ralof asked, legs crossed and leaned forward. Kastus was quietly eating cheese squares. Aela sat with her legs tucked underneath her. Ahlam shrugged. Her right hand held her left wrist over her drawn up knees.

“Because we can enjoy each other’s company.” Aela cocked her head to the side, curious. Ahlam sighed loudly. “I suppose it’s a cultural thing. Redguards take their time with two things: eating and fighting. We’ll sit for hours after eating, hands sticky with food, and listen to the everyone tell tales of their childhood or any story. I’m used to a meal lasting for hours.” The group nodded, understanding.

“So, Ahlam. Tell me something.” Ralof said, cautiously, toying with a blade of grass. Ahlam looked at him. “You are half-Redguard, half-Imperial. Do you side more with one or the other?” Ahlam’s featured darkened and she turned her head away from them and looked past cliffside near where they sat. She could see a thin forest and a few plants.

“I’m a Redguard first and always.” Ahlam became silent. The silence was parted with the breeze and birds chirping, but no human voice cried out to join the choir of nature. Suddenly, a woman’s voice came from the forest below them.

"I don't know who you think I am, and I don't care. Leave me alone!” With lightning speed, Ahlam grabbed the handcrafted bow from her bag and hastened to attach her quiver to her hip. She raced down the steep hill with Kastus calling after her. She found a natural ledge extending from the cliffside, which she used as a vantage point. Her companions—she heard them shuffle about—began to follow her down the steep cliff onto the ledge. Ahlam searched through the woods before she pointed with her bow to help her companions see.

A young Redguard woman was slowly backing away from two Alik'r warriors. Ahlam was surprised to see them. The warriors wore the traditional robes of the desert, down to the headscarf. Her heart thumped in sadness, missing her home. _How did they survive the cold weather in such thin cloth?_ Ahlam wondered.

One of the warriors unsheathed his scimitar and walked towards the woman. Ahlam leapt from the hill and rolled down until she came between the woman and the warrior. Her hair was covered in leaves and branches and she knew she looked mad. She kneeled in front of the woman, facing the warrior, with her bow drawn and an arrow pointed at his chest. She slowly rose as she spoke.

“Kindly step away from this woman, or this arrow will find your heart.” Ahlam spoke in Yoku. As soon as the familiar language of the old ways left her tongue, she knew the Alik’r warrior did not understand her. He was far too young. And even then, very few spoke Yoku outside of religious settings. Ahlam had fallen in love with the language and studied it meticulously—the only righteous thing she’s done—under the spiritual leader of different tribes and any witch doctors from the towns. She was fluent in the language after years of learning.

The Alik’r warrior glanced back at his companion before frowning at Ahlam. Ahlam sighed and repeated herself in the common tongue, Tamrielic. The warrior pointed with his sword to the Redguard woman behind Ahlam.

“This woman is a fugitive! We can’t just let her escape.” Ahlam glanced at the woman, who was glaring hard enough at the warriors to kill them.

“I already told you. I’m not who you think I am.” The woman bit at them. The slightly older Alik’r warrior, who had been standing a few feet away, stepped forward and lightly touched the one with the drawn sword on the shoulder.

“Sohrab, I think she is telling the truth. She doesn’t have the scar.” Sohrab looked at the woman again before dropping his blade in realization.

“What? Oh…you’re right.” Both warriors bowed their heads at the woman. Without a word of thanks, she stormed off. Ahlam sighed and placed her arrow back in the quiver. She leaned against her bow and watched the two warriors, who stared back. The red cape flew behind them and she felt her throat close from the homesickness. _By Tall Papa, I never thought I would say this, but I want the desert back. No more cold lands of Skyrim._

“Who are you looking for exactly?” By this point, Ralof, Aela, and Kastus had come down from the cliffside and were making their way towards her. The Alik’r Warriors glanced at the influx of people and suddenly felt nervous. They were outnumbered two to one.

"We're looking for information about a woman—a foreigner in these lands. She's a Redguard, like us. We believe she may be hiding in Whiterun, but we're checking everywhere to be sure.” Sohrab glanced at Ahlam, suddenly realizing she, too, was a Redguard.

“Do you think _I’m_ the foreigner?” Ahlam rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s prove it. Let us fight by the rules of the Book of Circles.” Unable to resist the challenge of Frandar Hunding’s text, Sohrab agreed. The other warrior groaned.

“What are your terms?”

“First blood, each fight with a scimitar. Winner takes the other’s weapons and clothes.” Sohrab remained silent while the older warrior touched his shoulder in worry. To take one’s weapon was a sign of defeat, but to take another’s clothes in battle was humiliation. Sohrab slowly nodded, accepting the terms. He handed Ahlam the other warrior’s scimitar.

“Amir here will judge.” Sohrab gestured to the other warrior.

“Fine, but I will have Kastus check us.” Ahlam gestured Kastus to come to her. He came up, confused.

“What am I to do?” Ahlam smiled and placed her hand on his face. He jumped in surprise at the intimate gesture but leaned in.

“Easy. You check to see if either of us struck first blood. If I strike first but then he strikes me and calls that he has first blood, you are to check him. We always have two of each side just to make sure no one cheats.” Kastus nodded. Aela and Ralof stepped forward to stand by Kastus.

“Okay, I can do that.” Ahlam kissed his cheek and pushed him away. He blinked in surprise—from the affection or the push, Ahlam did not know—before standing on the other side of Amir. Ahlam and Sohrab faced each other from twenty paces away, scimitars drawn.

Ahlam closed her eyes and brought the sword to her chest, cradling its familiar weight. Memories flooded into her: her father requesting the blade and her dragging it across the floor. Isran, her uncle, scolded her for dulling the blade, but her father thanked her for bring it so hastily. Ahlam opened her eyes and smiled slightly to herself. She held the blade straight forward.

 _This blade is not an extension of your arm, Ahlam. It_ is _your arm._ Her father had told her in the nights where they slept outside to watch the stars. He held his blade in front of him, pointed at the constellation of the Tower and drew it. He rested the tip of the blade at the top of the Tower; it winked and shined from the attention. _Do not fear your blade for it will deliver such might this world has never seen. Trust in it. Always._

“Are you ready?” Sohrab asked. Ahlam looked up and noticed that the coldness of Skyrim, touched by the warmth of three desert folk, wavered. She smelled the sweet air and saw the age and tradition in Sohrab, from the balance of his feet to the straightened back. A few birds chirped overhead, mindless to the fight below them. She swallowed and nodded, smiling at Sohrab with mischief dancing in her eyes.

Amir whistled to signal the fight. Ahlam did not move but waited as Sohrab sprinted to her. He swung the saber across. Ahlam blocked it and dipped in low stance. She held her left hand out and made slow movements around him. Sohrab fought like the impatient young man he was. _How has he survive this long?_

Their blades met often; the steel sang in the forest. Ahlam wanted to fight dirty by kicking and punching—the unrefined fighting style of the street—but by the rules of Book of Circles, she could not. Though the _Book of Circles_ was just a mastery of blades, in honor of Frandar Hunding, Redguards used his text to duel, just as he did.

With their blades locked, Ahlam gritted her teeth and head-butted Sohrab. He immediately placed his hand against his head and lowered his defense. Without waiting for him to recover, she nicked his open arm, careful to not cut deeply.

“What was that?” Sohrab asked, anguish and humiliation covering his words. Ahlam grinned and placed the scimitar across her shoulders, signally the end of the fight.

“ _The Book of Circles_ , Loredas Maxims. ‘A thrust is elegant, and a cut is powerful, but sometimes the right action is a head-butt.’ If I’m not mistaken.” Sohrab looked at her in anger and glanced at Amir to see if he would say anything. Alas, the older Redguard sighed and shook his head.

“You’re a witch, Ahlam. You are like Sep, a serpent who has cursed us!” Sohrab cursed. Ahlam narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. Amir grew still for a beat before sighing.

 “We’ve wasted enough time, Sohrab. Give her her victory.” Amir said, sounded tired. Sohrab grumbled and threw his scimitar down at Ahlam’s feet before beginning to undress. Ignoring him, Ahlam walked to Amir and bowed with the sword in her hands. She thanked him for allowing to duel with his blade and bring victory to the steel.

Ahlam watched Sohrab undress with disinterest. He threw the clothes down in a heap and grumbled about her cheating, but was silenced when she glanced up at him.

“Ralof, do you have any spare clothes you could give him?” Ahlam asked without turning her head. She heard him shuffle in his bag. After a moment, Ralof brought forth a pair of working clothes—a simple, white long-sleeved shirt and black pants. Ahlam held the clothes out to the near-naked Redguard. “Here. For losing and threatening two innocent women. Begone.” Sohrab bowed his head and began to walk off. Amir stayed behind for a moment.

“Ahlam?” He looked at her with the desire to say something. She waited. “Thank you for not killing him.” Ahlam nodded and he followed Sohrab, who stomped angrily as he changed into his clothes.

“Kill him? That wasn’t part of the duel.” Kastus said, stepping to Ahlam. She bent down to pick up the clothes.

“No, it wasn’t. But uttering The Snake’s name in a nonreligious setting is punishable by death. Typically, the name is to curse someone but just uttering his name causes his gaze to fall upon you as well. That is why Redguards avoid the name entirely.”

“I thought you’ve said his name?” Aela was just as confused. Ahlam smiled at her friends and began to undress.

“No, I’ve said the Worldskin’s name. He watches over me too. But I bear Sep’s mark, here.” Ahlam touched her face. “He watches me and I have no problem saying his name. No harm in it.”

“Shor’s beard, woman! Do you have no sense of decency?” Ralof gritted through his teeth, turning around and covering his eyes. Kastus, slightly used to it, began picking flowers and fungi for Ahlam but still turned his body away from her. Aela found nothing to do and decided to stand by Ralof.

Ahlam took her time to dress in the Alik’r robes. She first slipped on the long red sleeved shirt and noticed that the golden cuffs were loose. She frowned but pulled on the brown shirt with sleeves that stopped mid-forearm; they had striped golden cuffs. Then she tied on the vest which was a darker brown with straps running down the centre. She made sure the cape flowed behind her and showed a large design, like the prayer rugs she often used.

Ahlam fumbled with the pants and tucked in the shirt—everything was too big for her, given Sohrab’s height. She tied the belt tight around her waist and then slowly, tied the headscarf around her hair, carefully tucking the midnight locks away. She sighed and secured her new scimitar at her waist before donning the bag at her shoulders.

“You can turn around now.” Ralof turned and Aela and Kastus looked up to see her dressed in some traditional garb. They gasped. “As to your earlier comment Ralof, I presume you haven’t seen a naked woman before?” Ralof blushed and fiddled with his belt. Ahlam smirked.

“The body isn’t something that needs to be flaunted and—” Ahlam cut him off sharply.

“Aela, I assume there are brothels in Whiterun, yes? Ralof and I are going to get to know some women. I hope you don’t mind. I want him to be able to please you when—”

“Ahlam!” Aela cut her off, blushing more brightly than Ralof, who was now a bright shade of red. Even Kastus was awkwardly kicking rocks, still holding flowers and fungi. “That is enough. There is no need to insult Ralof thusly. We Nords are different. You must understand that. And besides, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ahlam nodded, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, I understand. And it will matter to you eventually. For now, you didn’t answer my question. Are there brothels in Whiterun?” Aela slowly nodded. “Good! I hope you don’t mind if I delay our journey for a day or two. I’d like to visit the pretty women.” With that comment, Ahlam began walking back up the hill, leaving the others to awkwardly follow.

They group walked in silence, their respective thoughts clouding them. Ahlam inhaled the warrior’s garb. It smelled like the desert and Sohrab’s sweat, which was unpleasant. But the desire to go home, to visit her father’s tomb and see her uncle, returned tenfold. She wanted to climb on sand dunes and slide down with nothing but gravity leading her feet. She wanted to sit on the pier in Rihad and watch the ships go by.

“Did you only fight Sohrab to have his clothes?” Kastus asked, stepping close to Ahlam. He pronunciation was utterly perfect and took Ahlam by surprise. She glanced up at him with a guilty smile.

“Was it so easy to tell?” He laughed and shook his head.

“No, but given how you were inhaling the threads, I assumed you were missing home.” Ahlam nodded.

“For a long time, I never liked wearing my traditional clothes. There was always so much extra material. I hated having to cover my hair and arms and I especially hated how you could barely move. But, then I discovered I didn’t like the formal wear; I like the simple things men wear. It’s better than what Aela has.” Ahlam gestured to the corset around Aela’s waist.

“Wearing this, I feel happy. My father would be surprised.” Ahlam gave a short laugh. “Still, this smells horrible because of Sohrab. As soon as we get into the city proper, I’m washing this!” Aela and Ralof broke into laughter. They were all silently thankful for the awkward air to dissipate.

“Speaking of the city, how much further is it?” Both Ralof and Aela looked up at the sun and Ahlam following their gaze.

“Nearly two.” Ralof quietly spoke.

“We’ll most likely get into town right before it’s dark.” Aela added. The sky roared and four pairs of eyes shot up to the sky. There was no change in color in the cold blue sky. Unsure if it was a dragon or an actual storm, Ahlam and Ralof drew their weapons. “Please tell me that’s just a storm and not a dragon.” Aela whispered, pleading to herself.

“Let’s find out.” Kastus said simply before sprinting to a tall tree. He began to climb upwards with practiced ease. The rest of the group huddled underneath the tree, hoping it was just a simple storm. A handful of minutes passed—but it felt longer, much, much longer—before Kastus fell beside Ahlam and Aela, feet first. The Nords jumped back in surprise, but Ahlam didn’t turn her head.

“What did you find?” Ahlam asked, running a finger along the arrow that rested in the bow. Kastus shook his head.

“It’s just a storm. It’ll be here soon, so we should get moving.” Following his instructions, they began to walk quickly towards Whiterun.

The storm began earlier than Kastus’s warning. The rain came from the northwest; the droplets grew fatter and hit harder as time went on. The sky darkened to such blackness, it was impossible to see a few feet in front of one’s step. The rain colored everything a dark grey and made the roads slick.

Ahlam and Kastus tied their cloaks tighter and drew the hoods to shield from the rain as best as they could. Ralof and Aela had tied on their respective Stormcloak cloaks: Aela’s had a light yellow trim that was slowly becoming splattered with mud while Ralof had the standard dark blue of the army.

Kastus reached back for Ahlam’s hand, which she took hastily for she had slipped once too often on the roads. Ralof had his arm around Aela’s shoulders, providing her with what little warm he could.

“You said a few hours!” Ahlam cried over the storm; her hair and headscarf were matted against her skull and neck.

“I said soon, not a few hours!” Kastus shouted back. Strands of hair were plastered onto his neck, but the braid still held tightly.

Ralof and Aela trailed behind them. Suddenly, Ahlam and Kastus noticed a light of the gates of the city. Kastus gestured with his chin while Ahlam pointed; Ralof and Aela understood the silent gesture to meet by the lantern, Kastus and Ahlam resumed their lead with Ralof and Aela jogging behind them. Taking a shortcut, Kastus and Ahlam ran though a thin stream of water, splashing their already soaked clothes. They ran to the wall, still holding hands, and stood near the dim lantern that had saved them.

“Of all the days for it to storm like this…” Kastus yelled in the rain more to himself than Ahlam. He leaned his head against the wall and crossed his arms. Ahlam laughed and shook her head.

“It is a blessing, Kastus! Rain is always a blessing.” He looked at her skeptically. She placed a hand on his shoulder, regretting touching the soaked wool. “Hammerfell is only dry and hot. Rihad is better than the desert but having rain was still rare. So I am thankful for it.” Ahlam smiled into the rain allowing it to pelt against her skin.

“I suppose it is a blessing…” Kastus trailed off. Ahlam opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to look at him.

“Think of the crops.” Ahlam gestured to the farmland. As she made a sweeping movement with her arm, they noticed movement that was neither Ralof nor Aela. Kastus drew his sword and summoned Sparks in his left hand; the thunder crackled in his hands as it did in the sky. Ahlam pulled out her bow and crouched low to blend further in the dark. They walked close to each other, brushing against one another to make sure of the other’s presence.

“Where are you going?” Ralof asked as they passed him. He frowned in the rain; his beard dripped, producing its own rain. He shifted so his clothes wouldn’t stick so much to him. Aela peaked out from under her hood.

“There’s something out there.” Kastus yelled and pointed with his sword to the farm. Suddenly, he ran forward.

“Kastus!” Ahlam called, taking a step forward. Ralof’s hard arm met her middle, stopping her entirely. She glared back at him as soon as she regained her balance.

“That’s a giant, Ahlam. If Kastus is to fall, he will do so alone.” Ahlam tried to find Kastus in the grey rain, but it proved impossible. She closed her eyes and began praying. Hard rain hit her head and thunder sounded. She shivered.

_HoonDing. I know I have disgraced you. But Kastus has not. Keep him safe; do not let him fall. Ruptga, my beloved king, keep Kastus’s aim true. Satakal, keep the world steady for his steps. And Sep, I know you hear me. You have never granted me my prayers. For once, do so, you snake-demon! Keep Kastus alive._

Ahlam opened her eyes to a burst of lightning. In that exact moment, Kastus was atop the giant’s shoulders. He pierced the giant’s head before yanking his blade out and sliced him through his brain. Ahlam began to sprint down the hill. When she reached him, the rain lessened enough for her to see him covered in mud, sweat, and blood. The giant’s head was half open and his brain was leaking into the farm. Grimacing, she placed her hand against her nose. Kastus spoke to a Nord woman with fiery red hair; green paint was speared across her face like a bear had scarred her.

“I’ll think about it!” Kastus cried after the woman. The woman nodded and began walking calmly towards the city followed by two other figures—a lumbering Nord with an even slower gait and an Imperial with impatient movements as though ready for another fight. Kastus barely turned around to greet Ahlam before she hugged him tightly. She felt his hammering heart against hers. He enclosed his arms around her, proving warm.

“You fool.” Ahlam muttered against his neck. “You didn’t even change into your armor.” She pulled back and inspected the giant tear in his clothes. There was no injury on his skin, but he desperately needed a new shirt. Kastus laughed and shrugged before pulling her close again.

“I am all right, Ahlam. I am safe as are your three.” Kastus shifted so they both could see Ralof and Aela making their way towards them. Ahlam was thankful for their loyalty.

“Can we head into the city now?” Aela asked, shivering. Ralof rubbed his hands along her arms. Kastus unwound himself from Ahlam’s embrace.

“Yeah, just a minute.” Ahlam cried out and walked to the giant. Kastus’s sword lay beside the giant’s head, but she ignored it. Instead, she kneeled in the soft mud and took out a dagger. She began to slice away at the big toe of the giant. “Okay, I’m ready! Keep walking and don’t look back.” Following her instructions, they turned from her and began walking away quickly. They heard the crunch of Ahlam chewing through the bone before hastily hacking it up.

“What, does it taste that bad?” Kastus teased as he heard her gagging and making other sounds of disgust.

“Ugh, yes. And now I won’t be able to run for a moment.”

“Hey, how about a short footrace, just to the gate?” Ralof cried over the storm; Ahlam glared at his back. Kastus laughed at them and slowed down to hold Ahlam’s hand once more. She leaned against him for warmth and less from the damage stamina effect from the giant’s toe.

They passed over a drawbridge and underneath an archway. An archer was poised at the top of the scaffold, glancing down at them before watching the skies. They passed another stone archway before seeing the official gate of Whiterun. Two guards were posted outside. They were clearly soaked but did not look fazed by the storm.

“Halt!” One of the guard’s walked towards them and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. “City's closed with dragons about. Official business only.” Ahlam glared at him, head ducked into her chest.

“It’s raining. We need shelter.” She quipped. The guard seemed to glare straight back. His cloak moved in the wind.

“Riverwood calls for the Jarl’s aid.” Aela calmly explained. She placed her hand on Ahlam, allowing the Calm spell to penetrate her mind. She visibly relaxed against Kastus.

“We have news from Helgen about the dragon attack.” Kastus added, adjusting his arm around Ahlam. Ralof sauntered up to the guard and whispered something in his ear. Ahlam watched Ralof pass the guard a coin purse.

“Welcome to Whiterun, friends.” The guard smiled and pocketed the money. “Riverwood’s in danger, too? You better go on in. You'll find the Jarl at Dragonsreach, atop the hill. And I’m keeping my eye on you, Breton.” Kastus glared at the guard.

“The Bannered Mare is the inn in which you will want to rest in.” The other guard spoke softly. “Just keep forward. It’s the only building with its lanterns still lit.” Ahlam nodded and he inclined his head. The door swung open and the group rushed in.

The city was desolate. They passed by a blacksmith’s shop and a hunting supply store. They walked further and saw the empty market place. The signs rattled in the storm and loose papers flew about. Puddles had formed where the street was uneven. Ralof led the way into the inn—just as the guard said, it was the only one with lit lanterns. Ralof held the door open and ushered in his companions.

The storm pooled inside the inn. A few patrons glared while a few drunkards angrily slurred words of discomfort. The woman at the bar also cried out for them to shut the door. Aela immediately went to the fire and pulled off her bag and cloak. She wrung the cloak into the fire. A few men watched her with interest but a many others grumbled about the spitting fire. She sent a flame spell towards the fire pit, lighting it once more. The patrons jumped back in surprise and even the barkeeper raised her brows.

Ralof went to Aela and kissed her lightly on the cheek, marking her away from the other onlookers.  Kastus followed them and picked a table in the back, away from the others. It was near the stairs. A Redguard woman passed by with a tray of ale. He stopped her and asked for some food. She listened to him, accounting for whatever he said before smiling and walking to the bar.

Ahlam stayed by the door until she made sure her companions were safe. She unwound her headscarf before walking to the bar. She spoke to the innkeeper—the woman who asked them to close the door.

“Welcome to the Bannered Mare. I’m Hulda. What can I get you?” Ahlam fished for her coin purse and felt a pair of eyes on her. She ignored it.

“Four rooms, please.” She began counting out the Septims. Hulda stopped her with her hand.

“Sorry, sweetie. We only have three rooms left.” Ahlam blinked and opened her mouth. “All single beds, I might add.” Ahlam closed her mouth. _Shit. There goes my plan for rooming with Kastus_.

“She can stay with me, if she doesn't mind the company.” Someone spoke. The voice was deep and sounded like light peaking from behind rainy clouds. Ahlam turned her head and looked at a figure who sat at the far-end of the bar. The figure appeared masculine and lithe. _An elf? Or perhaps a Breton?_ He took a sip of some kind of ale; it had a blue bottle that looked out of place in the warm room. Ahlam stared at his hand—it was the only thing that was touched by the light and the only thing outside of his muddied cloak. It was too delicate and clean to be anything other than an elf.

“Thanks, but I’ll find some other way to get a room. May I sleep in the kitchen?” Ahlam asked Hulda. The elf chuckled.

“She doesn't allow anyone to sleep anywhere save for beds. And none of these men will share a bed with you.” Ahlam curled her fist and glared at the figure. She strode towards him and crossed her arms when she was close enough to touch him.

“Oh, and you would?” Hulda cleaned the bar and eyed them cautiously. It wasn’t strange for fights to break out, but she would rather avoid it.

“I would. My original statement stands. If you don’t mind the company, you can stay with me.” Ahlam glared. “Will it make you feel better if I don’t sleep on the bed?” She nodded slowly.

“And seeing the face of whomever is so _kind_ to offer his bed.”

“Later.” He said shortly, catching her off-guard. “When the others have left.” Ahlam glanced to where her companions sat. They sat in the chairs, still wet and shivering. Hot stews lay in front of them but they did not eat. Ralof looked up just as she turned her head to look at the stranger.

“A name, then.” Ahlam took another step forward, hoping to looking intimidating.

“Ladies first.” _Clearly not as affective as I thought it was going to be. He’s a fucking pain._

“Ahlam.” She said short and to the point.

“That’s pretty.” He did not move and she looked for any movement underneath his hood. She could feel his eyes on her; yet he sat in such a perfect place that the fire casted more shadows on him rather than illuminated him.

“I asked for a name.”

“And a name you shall receive.” Still, she was met with silence. Frustrated, Ahlam groaned loudly. The patrons of the inn turned their gazes to her. Her companions moved to stand. The stranger in front of her shifted.

“What, do you not have a name?” She leaned forward and slammed her palm on the bar. She was close in enough to smell sweet flowers and dampened bark. She pulled back in surprise. _A Bosmer?_ She remembered an old custom with the elves: nameless elves were slaves. Ahlam felt shame creeping along her neck.

“I have a name.” He gently placed his hand over hers and she jumped. “I don’t always give it out to strangers. But beautiful women? I’ll always give it to them.” Ahlam rolled her eyes and began pulling away from his intoxicating smell. “Mathal.” She paused and looked up at him then. The firelight caught his lips—they were painted red down the centre. Ahlam nodded and pulled away from him. He let her go and she walked to her companions.

“Who was that? Are you all right?” Kastus asked worriedly, standing up. Ahlam moved to the last empty chair under the stairs. It was shoved there like an afterthought. Someone climbed the steps and she listened to the creaking wood. Kastus clutched the cloak tightly around him to keep himself covered; Aela had stopped shivering, but Ralof still held her hand in both of his.

“Everything is fine. Let’s eat first. I’m starved.” She sighed and they began to eat the beef stew with carrots and potatoes. Ahlam stopped the pretty Redguard, who had served them food.

“Excuse me, miss?” The Redguard stopped and smiled prettily at Ahlam. Her eyes were large and a darker golden compared to Ahlam. Her skin—no darker than Ahlam—was without any blemish or scar. Her cheekbones could rival Kastus’s despite his elven blood. Her hair was wild like any Redguard and was once dyed red, but the darkness was creeping back. Her lips were slightly parted and Ahlam lost her question in the pink color.

“Yes?” She asked sweetly and Ahlam felt her gut clench.

“Apologizes. You are just so beautiful.” Ahlam breathed, stunned. The woman giggled and embarrassedly placed her hand against her face.

“Oh please. You are the beautiful one.” Ahlam stood up; her companions watched her in intrigue.

“I’ll fight you on this. There is no way I’m more beautiful than you.” The woman placed her fists against her hips and squared her shoulders. She looked like a true Redguard then—wild hair, emotional, golden eyes, and a mouth set in a line, sure of the statement.

“We have mirrors here. I’ll prove it to you.” Ahlam copied the beautiful woman’s stance and reminded silent. Tension seemed to spread. Kastus felt uncomfortable for being in the middle of these two women. Then they burst into laughter.

“Oh, do tell me your name, my sweet.” Ahlam reached forward to hold the woman’s hands. Kastus pulled his chair in to let Ahlam pass. Ahlam stood very close to the woman.

“Please, call me M’irhtba. And you?” Ahlam smiled at M’irhtba, squeezing her hands. M’irhtba grinned back.

“Ahlam.” M’irhtba drew Ahlam into a hug and laughed brightly in her ear.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ahlam. Do you need anything?” Ahlam nodded and pulled away from M’irhtba.

“I needed to get a change of clothes for my companion here.” Ahlam placed her hand on Kastus’s shoulder. M’irhtba glanced at him and then nodded.

“I’ll ask Hulda to send an extra change of clothes to his room.” Ahlam smiled and thanked her. She sat back down and began to tell them how the rooms were arranged. She also told them how she was fortunate that Mathal gave up his bed.

“Well, I use give up lightly.”

“Does he want you to sleep with him? I’ll gut that bastard…” Ralof slowly rose, hand on his the hilt of his sword. Ahlam held up a hand. He slowly sank back down, but glared at the elf.

“Nothing like that. He’ll sleep on the floor and I’ll have the bed and then we’ll be on our merry, separate way.”

“Ahlam, if he hurts you…”

“Ralof, your concern is sweet, but unnecessary. He doesn’t scare me.” She looked at him head on. He nodded slowly.

“Take my room, at least.” Kastus said, but Ahlam shook her head.

“And what, you’re gonna sleep in the basement or worse, the stables? Both of you are mad. I’ll be fine. I’ll slit his throat faster than he can move his hand to his sword.” _Does he even have a sword?_ Ahlam wondered. He had been weaponless at the bar.

She smiled pleasantly at her companions. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just be thankful we all have warm beds this evening.” They agreed with her and finished their meal. Whiterun was a wealthy city and it showed in the patrons of the inn. But with wealth came prejudice. A wealthy Redguard passed them and muttered “peasants” before spilling ale on Ahlam.

“Why you…” Ahlam stood up, but the Redguard was already passing the bar. Mathal kicked out his leg and the man crashed onto the floor, spilling his food and drink. Silently, Mathal drew his leg back. No one moved to help the Redguard. He slowly stood, glared at Mathal, and went up the stairs, presumably to bed. Mathal found Ahlam across the people and the fire. He nodded slowly before turning back to his drink.

“Seems he isn’t as bad as you say.” Aela commented lightly. Ahlam smiled and nodded.

“I told you. I’ll be fine. So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Ralof stretched in his chair, lifting two of the legs of the chair a few inches from the ground.

“We’ll try and get an audience with the Jarl. We can look for supplies after that.”

“Actually, can we go to the tailor first?” Kastus asked, picking at his torn shirt. Ahlam refilled their cups with water and handed her companions each an ale.

“That’s fine. We should probably find wealthier clothes before visiting the Jarl.” Ralof explained; they agreed with him. _We barely have the money for one of us to get something fancy_. Ahlam wanted to say. She inwardly sighed. _It’s too big a risk to take that many garments especially with how we look already._

They continued to discuss their plans for tomorrow. As they spoke, their clothes slowly dried against their skin from the heat of the fire. The storm still raged outside. Lightning often brought white light into the warm room before heralding a large cry. As the hour grew late, patrons began climbing the steps. Ahlam listened to the steps creak and how each pair of boots sounded different. Aela stretched and stood.

“I think I shall retire for the night. I’m exhausted and we have much to do come morn.” Ralof stood up.

“I’ll come up too, then.” Ahlam and Kastus watched the two Nords leave before turning to each other. They smiled and quietly spoke to each other about anything that came to mind, but nothing too personal.

“Hey, Kastus?” He hummed in response to Ahlam and slowly opened his eyes. “You were dozing.” He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

“Was I?” She nodded and he scratched his thigh absentmindedly. She rubbed her hand on his shoulder, silently insisting that he should sleep. Kastus leaned into her touch before nodding at her. “All right, I’m heading upstairs. Don’t stay up long.” He tried to give her a serious look. She smiled at him.

“I won’t. Goodnight, Kastus.”

“Goodnight, Ahlam.” She walked him to the base of the steps and watched him walk down the hall to where his room was. Ahlam sighed and turned around. The fire burned low. Hulda and M’irhtba left a while ago, closing the inn. Only Mathal still remained in his barstool, unmoved. Ahlam stalked towards him. When she neared, she noticed that his bottle was empty.

“If you’re trying to drown your sorrows, you’re going to need another bottle.” Ahlam reached over the counter and grabbed another blue bottle. She read the label. “Black-Briar Reserve” was written in an easy-to-read hand and flower in a basket rested underneath the words. Ahlam passed the bottle to him and poured herself water.

“I have drowned my sorrows many times, _latta_ , I do not need to do it again so soon.” Ahlam paused at the Bosmeris word and looked into the clear liquid of the goblet. “Are you tired?” He leaned towards her and the smell of spring surrounded her. She looked up at him, trying to catch his eyes. Instead she saw his lips. There was a scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth down to his chin. Again, she saw the red paint running from his top lip down to his chin, but was obscured by his dark stubble.

“Tell me, Mathal.” She paused and he waited. “Is this paint or a tattoo?” She reached forward to trace his lips, but stopped short. He tensed, unsure of her movement. She shifted her hand at the last moment and placed her hand on the heavy material of his cloak. _The rain must slide off of this. Wonder what it’s made of_. Her hand asked a silent question, and in reply, Mathal placed his hand on top of hers—so gently as though she was made of glass—and together, they pulled the hood back.

Ahlam gasped and he looked away. His skin, a deep brown, was akin to tree bark. There was the hint of roughness. His pointed ears were pierced with golden hoops—two lobes and three cartilage in his left ear was all she could see. His hair was hard parted on the left. Most of his brown hair lay over his right shoulder. Ahlam spotted a few glints of gold in between the thick locks of hair.

Mathal’s eyes were an unnatural golden-green hue that reminded Ahlam of sunlight passing through trees. There was red paint across his left eye, up to his temple, before coming down to his neck in a similar shape to a scythe.

What caught Ahlam off guard were the scars. Across the bridge of his nose and into his left cheek was one long scar. There was another across his right brow and another along the side of his neck. The scar along his lip wasn’t deep, but some how he was more beautiful because of his wounds.

Mathal pulled his cloak tighter around him, wanting to disappear. Ahlam cleared her throat and mind. “By Satakal, you are more handsome than I thought you were.” Ahlam whispered. Mathal turned his head sharply and stared. She realized her words had not been too kind.

Ahlam folded her hands in her lap and looked down at her short nails. “Forgive me; that was rude. You are the most beautiful Bosmer I’ve seen.” While there hadn’t been many she had seen, she took pride in watching Mathal’s face flush a slight green. He glanced away from her and stared at the back wall.

“Are you tired?” He asked again and she didn’t stifle her yawn. He stood up abruptly and began walking to the stairs. Ahlam noticed that his bottle remained unopened. _Why is he so scared of drink? Did something happen in the past?_

Silent as her forefathers, Ahlam followed him up the stairs, a few paces behind him. She took note for her where her companions’ names were written outside of their rooms. _Smart for friends and easy for enemies_. They walked the length of the corridor before stopping at the last room on the left. The room beside them was reserved for the Jarl. Mathal opened the door and Ahlam did her best not to gape at the room.

“This is impressive.” Ahlam mumbled, stepping into the room. The bed was at the centre of the room at an angle, taking up the most amount of space. There was an actual blanket instead of furs like at The Sleeping Giant Inn. The blanket was yellow and had a horse’s profile. _That must be the symbol of Whiterun_. At the foot of the bed was a large chest. There was a wardrobe to the door’s right and a door leading to the balcony beside the wardrobe. Along the walls were small tables and cabinets for extra clothes and blankets. There was a table on the other side of the balcony door that had a platter of food and a pitcher of water. Ahlam turned around to thank Mathal. He, however, remained in the doorway, unwilling to enter.

“It is good here. You will be comfortable; here is the key.” He held out the key, not stepping over the threshold of the room. Ahlam crossed her arms and stood in the middle of the room.

“And where do you plan on sleeping?” She titled her head; Mathal shrugged.

“I’ve slept in worse places, _latta_.” He smiled at her. Ahlam shook her head and took note of the size of the bed. It was possible for them to sleep on it without touching. _Or if he is so uncomfortable with that, he could sleep on the floor_. Sleeping next to a stranger made her nervous, but she did not see any evil in Mathal’s heart. Just sadness.

“The bed is big enough for both of us.” He stilled, uncomfortable.

“I would rather sleep in the chair.” Ahlam scoffed and headed for the wardrobe. She rummaged to find sleepwear.

“Thanks. I know I smell bad from traveling, but you didn’t have to be that mean.”

“I did not mean—” Ahlam laughed and shook her head.

“I’m joking. I shall bathe soon enough and then you won’t have a reason to complain.” She pulled out a long yellow tunic with a knotted design along the hem and the sleeves. In the back, she found black wool stockings. _Only in Skyrim would I need wool stockings. Oh! Maybe I can throw out the worn cotton hose from Riverwood. This will be much better under armor._

“I do not wish to—” Ahlam sighed.

“If you do not wish to sleep on the bed, fine. I respect your wishes. But then sleep on the floor or in the chair. But do not sleep somewhere cold and damp, like the stables. I know your kind.” Ahlam gestured to the golden sheets with her free hand. “I won’t try anything if you won’t.” Mathal shook his head slowly.

“I am not sure if that is a good idea.” Ahlam groaned and threw the clothes down on the floor.

“Look, I never said if it was a good idea or not. I’m trying to be kind here. I’m going to go bathe. It has been a long night and I don’t want to stay up any longer. When I return, you should be here in the bed.” Ahlam leaned down to reach the clothes. She felt Mathal’s eyes over her. His gaze went to her exposed neck as her hair fell forward. His gaze travel further down before she straightened. “Seen enough?” Mathal flushed green once more and stammered. Ahlam rolled her eyes and held up her hand for his silence.

“I…I shall sleep on the floor. I will abide by your rules for this sole night. Tomorrow I will be gone.” Ahlam frowned.

“Don’t wanna ask why I am here?” His lips parted before he closed them. He sighed, taking her bait. She grinned at him.

“Why are you here?”

“You’ll have to wait until after I come back.” Ahlam walked past Mathal and headed down the stairs. Mathal was silent as he followed her; they split where the baths were segregated.

As soon as she stepped into the heated water, Ahlam sighed in relief. She felt the knots in her back unwind; the grime from the mud as well as the general sweat during the fight with Sohrab washed away. Ahlam leaned her head against the rim of the tub, hoping she wouldn’t fall asleep. She did not stay long however, when sleep began creeping onto her. She dressed quickly and tied her hair in a rag after wringing out as much water as she could.

The warmth from the water stayed on her skin thanks to the warm clothes. The tunic, Ahlam noticed, had angel sleeves. Ahlam headed upstairs barefoot. When she opened the door, she found Mathal bathed and cutting a green apple. His hair was still wet from the bath; it dripped on the front of his tunic, darkening the material. He offered her a slice as she closed the door. She declined with her hand; he shrugged and ate it from his knife. Ahlam sat on the bed, untied her hair and began drying it. They remained domestic and silent for a moment.

“Will you tell me why you are here now?” Mathal asked after he had finished his apple.

“You know the dragon that attacked Helgen?” Mathal nodded. “My companions and I are to speak to the Jarl and tell him to defend Riverwood.” Ahlam placed the wet cloth and her robes into the small basket of laundry. Mathal glanced at her before shifting in his seat again. Ahlam looked up at him and felt a strange sense of giddiness. _We’re matching_. Ahlam chided herself. It was an irrational thought for all the sleepwear in the inn were the same.

“I must tell you something.” Mathal became even quieter. Ahlam blew out the candle on her nightstand and crawled under the covers; she turned away from his side of the bed and lay out her hair to cover her pillow. A few strands curled on Mathal’s pillow.

“I’m listening.” Ahlam whispered. She closed her eyes and heard the chair move. He shuffled about before pulling spare blankets out of the cabinet. Ahlam turned, wet hair hitting her face. She watched Mathal set up a makeshift bed on the floor. He turned around and pulled off his tunic. She saw a tattoo of a singular wing on the right side of his back.

“Another night, _sancre rielle_. I will tell you the tale.” Ahlam closed her eyes and buried herself further in the blankets.

“You sure?” Ahlam began to fall asleep before hearing his voice, deep and unsure.

“Yes. Another night.” She did not speak and let sleep hold her instead of the elf. “Goodnight, _latta_.”

“Goodnight, Mathal.” Ahlam mumbled against the pillow, turned away from him. She heard him sigh and say something in Bosmeris. A prayer? A wish? Ahlam did not think long upon it before falling into the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 9,722


	8. Chapter VIII — Whiterun [Kastus]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kastus is jealous. The group runs some errands. A strange group arrives at the inn.

Like a soft lover, the night held Kastus comfortably. But his mind would not rest and thus he awoke in a panic. Worry twisted in his gut; sweat trailed down his neck and beard. He couldn’t find his breath or the air. The image of Ahlam— _turning, her hair everywhere at once and then she’s smiling and he feels happy_ —filled his mind.

_Stendarr, give me breath_. Kastus inhaled and exhaled with his eyes closed. He counted the Divines and their symbols. When he had finished, he opened his eyes and pulled himself out of bed. He walked over to his basin and splashed his face. The water was cool compared to his burning face. He dried his face and found the discarded tunic.

Cautiously, Kastus made his way down the hall. He passed the larger rooms until he found a board outside one such room that read “Mathal” in a neat hand in the centre of the board. Above it, Ahlam had hastily scratched her name. Kastus smiled. It was just like her. He opened the door as quietly as he could manage.

The elf was curled in the same bed as Ahlam, dead asleep. Her back was against his bare chest. He had an arm around her middle, but she had an arm outstretched over the bed as though reaching for someone else. In his sleep, the elf pulled her to him and she sighed. Feeling like an intruder—but also the herald of doom—Kastus closed the door and stalked back to his room. He passed a servant on the way back who kept his head down.

Kastus found his sheets to be cool and inviting. He hoped the hours would pass quickly. _I won’t be able to sleep now that I’m awake_. _Breakfast wouldn’t be ready until six_ , _at the earliest._ Whereas farmers ate with the dawn, city folk ate whenever they pleased. They had no amount of work that would last the whole day. He stared at the ceiling and waited.

For the second time in a brief period, Kastus jerked awake. Light pooled into his room, bathing it to be past dawn. Feeling groggy and irritated, he went to the basin once more and washed his face thoroughly. He found some mint leaves beside the basin and chewed them for a moment before spitting them out. He looked in the mirror.

Kastus saw his reflection stare back at him. It was grim and unloving. He sighed and shook his head. _It’s fine_. _There has to be some reason for that_. But just the thought of Ahlam in bed with a stranger made his throat burn. He thought of her as a noble sort of woman, not someone who would open her legs for any man or elf. But maybe the rumors of the Redguard women were true; they were all whores.

“Stop it.” He grunted, slamming his fists on the table. He upset the basin, letting the water slosh onto the floor. He exhaled slowly. “Why is this bothering me so much?” He looked at himself in the mirror once more. Thankful, the ink of his face was still mostly intact. Kastus righted the basin and found a pair of simple shoes. He walked downstairs into the main room, thoughts swarming.

The inn was bustling. The smell of fresh bread, honey, eggs, and roasted beef filled the inn. People had tankards raised and were merrily drinking a light mead. Others were talking quietly together. No doubt somewhere in the inn someone was planning a heist or murder. Kastus scanned the group of people. He saw M’irhtba with a bright smile carrying food to a ragtag group of people—a tall Nord, a very lithe Bosmer, a hearty Redguard, and a grinning Altmer. He stopped, realizing that was like his group.

“Kastus! There you are.” Ahlam stood up from a large table. She grinned at him and he smiled at her. He walked down the steps, but saw the elf. He was sitting right next to her. Kastus knew their knees touched. Bitterness grew in his heart like a vine.

_Oh blessed Stendarr, hear my words. I feel resentment growing for one of your children. You keep him safe as you keep me safe. Please, guide me to your light and allow him to not be hurt by me._

“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t sleep well.” Immediately, Ahlam and Aela looked at him with worry in their eyes. He held up his hand. “Nothing happened. My back just hurt.” Ahlam laughed, relived. He watched her shoulders relax and notice Aela’s doing the same. 

“I can help with that.” Aela held out her hands. He smiled at her and shook his head.

“Thank you, Aela. It’s not too bad. If it gets worse, I’ll come to you.” He added as she gave him a look that made it so he couldn’t refuse. He turned back to Ahlam and noticed he could not sit beside her. He awkwardly stood for a moment too long before sitting on the empty bench, his back to the patrons of the inn.

“Before I forget,” Ahlam swallowed a bite of bread. “Mathal, this is Kastus Thierry. Kastus, Mathal.” She smiled at both of them. Kastus only narrowed his eyes slightly at the elf. The Bosmer leaned into Ahlam and whispered something. Ahlam reached for a section of the goat’s leg that was delicately cut before glancing up at Kastus.

Kastus knew his features were far more intimidating from the bad sleep and the ugly look he was giving the Bosmer. Even Aela and Ralof to his left were doing their best to ignore his negativity. Ahlam mumbled something against the meat and patting the elf’s leg. Kastus stared through the wood and wished he could burn a hole through the elf’s leg. Sensing the danger, Mathal moved away from Ahlam.

“Ah, you’re finally awake, Kastus!” M’irhtba placed her hand on Kastus’s back, surprising him slightly. He straightened his posture and looked at her. The light played with her reddish hair. Her eyes were the darkest shade of honey. “We were all worried about you. I’ll bring you your breakfast shortly.” She poured everyone a round of mead and gave Ahlam more water. Kastus watched M’irhtba speak to Hulda before coming back with a plate of grilled beef, creamed arugula and bell peppers and a few slices of bread. He thanked her and reached for the cheese at the centre of the table.

The communal food, he noticed, was very little. Bread and cheese, as always. The lamb’s leg seemed to be Ahlam’s though she wasn’t eating all of it. There were a few vegetables and fruits from the farmers—carrots, garlic, figs, and blackberries. He watched as Ahlam squeezed a lemon over her lamb and then over the arugula, bell peppers, and tomatoes she had on the side of her plate. Aela was eating porridge and Ralof was eating just beef with a few potatoes on the side. Mathal was eating a salad. _How simple and here Ahlam is eating the most complex meal of us all_.

“M’irhtba!” Ahlam called. M’irhtba came to her side quickly with a smile.

“Yes, my beauty?” Kastus thought it very endearing that M’irhtba addressed Ahlam so intimately and so freely. He wondered if it had to do with shared blood. _One day, I will be able to love like that, just as free and just as well._

“My love, do you have any raw garlic?” M’irhtba threw her head back and laughed. Kastus glanced at Aela and Ralof, who in turn glanced at him. They were utterly confused why garlic would warrant a laugh.

“Always with the tradition, Ahlam.” Ahlam shrugged carelessly.

“I’m a Crown, through and through.” The group watched the conversation in interest despite not understanding anything said. Mathal cleared his throat.

“When are we visiting the Jarl?” He smiled kindly, but Kastus felt his blood harden in his body. Aela and Ralof began to speak, but Kastus caught them off.

“We?” His voice was cold and the air thickened with frost. The Nords lost their pleasant smiles; Ahlam held a small cherry tomato at her lips. “What do we mean, _we_?”

“Mathal is joining us to see the Jarl, Kastus. He has a few questions that needs to be addressed about Valenwood. After that, he will go home.” Aela tried to calm the tension that had arisen. Ralof held her hand. Ahlam closed her eyes and leaned back. Her hand was close enough for Mathal to reach it, but he ignored it.

“He better.” Kastus spat, still hurt by the elf’s love for Ahlam. She stood up abruptly and glared daggers into Kastus.

“I need to speak with you. Now.” She spoke through clenched teeth and balled fists. He obliged, and followed her. She walked quickly and silently towards the kitchen; he did not struggle to keep pace with her. He watched her hair swing back and forth in a loose braid. It was odd to see her hair tied instead of freely hanging. He liked the braid on her and wished to compliment her hair, but knew it was the wrong time.

Ahlam stopped in the narrow hallway. A few servants walked around them. Ahlam crossed her arms and did not lessen her gaze. “What has Mathal done to you? He does not deserve your ire.”

“What does he mean to you?” Kastus copied her stance and dodged her question. Ahlam’s brows knitted in confusion.

“Stop avoiding the question. And what do you mean?” She moved her hands as she spoke. Kastus shook his head. Ahlam’s skin shone a perfect bronze thanks to the oven’s firelight. Kastus was jealous of the rich color.

“My problem with the elf arrises from this morning. I came into your room in the dead of night; I had a nightmare and was worried about you.” Ahlam thanked him with her eyes but did not smile. “When I opened the door, I saw that you were tangled in bed with him. Explain that.” Ahlam frowned.

“That doesn’t make sense. He slept on the floor all night. When I awoke, he was outside on the balcony. We were never entangled with each other!” She uncrossed her arms and gestured wildly. She began to pace back and forth, worry in each footfall. He wanted to believe Ahlam, but he knew of her thieving habits. _Thieves are liars_.

“Do you love him?” Kastus asked, unable to swallow the question. He asked quietly, but he knew she heard him. Ahlam’s eyes widened and her face flushed. “So you do love him.”

“I didn’t say that!” She snapped at him, causing a few workers to glance at each other. “You just caught me off guard. You embarrassed me.”

“The great Ahlam can be embarrassed?” Kastus asked with a laugh. “You didn’t answer my question.” Ahlam shook her head, growing serious once more.

“I barely know him; I don’t think I can love someone I barely know.” She moved her arms wildly as though the proposition was strange.

“Explain why he was in your bed.”

“I…can’t.” Ahlam answered, defeated. She looked away from Kastus, down the hallway. He looked in the opposite direction and watched the workers cut vegetables and dice meat. “But do not accuse me of losing my virtue so easily. Nothing happened but sleep. I know this.”

“I don’t trust him.” Kastus shook his head. Ahlam groaned from frustration and placed her hands on her hips.

“Why? Because he slept in the same bed as me?” Kastus wanted to know why she was being so stubborn.

“No. He just doesn’t seem—” He stopped mid-sentence and looked over his shoulder to the opening of the hall. He did not look at the elf’s face, but rather his sandals. Ahlam moved to look him full in the face.

“I am sorry for causing so much disruption. If it is wiser for me to go, then I shall leave.” Mathal sounded like wind blowing through the leaves in the spring time, soft and unsure. Ahlam brushed past Kastus and placed her hand on Mathal’s forearm. She smiled sweetly at him.

“No, Mathal, you are of no trouble. Stay with us until we visit the Jarl.” Kastus turned to look at them both. Ahlam pleaded with her gaze while Mathal was watching her. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this is what Padomay felt when he saw Anu with Nir. Jealously ate him like an infected wound. _Gods have felt jealously too, for what are we but crafted in their image_?

Mathal bowed his head before walking down the hall. Ahlam did not watch him go. Kastus remembered an old wives’ tale his mother told him: _a woman who does not watch her husband leave does not care whether he lives or dies. A woman who watches her husband will alway see him leave and return to her arms._

“What has he done to warrant your rage, Kastus?” Kastus turned his head away, but Ahlam held his face. His lips puckered with her hands at his cheeks. She chuckled and loosened her hands. He swallowed and allowed himself to be held.

“He looks…he looks at you like he wants to marry you. He stares at you as if he’s known you for decades, Ahlam. He acts like a lover to you already and you to him. But do you know anything of him? Do you know if he is married, has children? Does he even care for you or is he leading you astray?” Kastus placed his hands upon her shoulders and shook her gently. She placed her right hand upon his and turned her gaze to the hall.

“You think I haven’t dealt with men?” She spoke so quietly that Kastus leaned in. He drew her into a hug.

“Not like this. Please, Ahlam. I do not trust him and my feelings have never been wrong.” She exhaled against his chest and toyed with his tunic, twisting it in her finger. Her hair brushed his mouth. He inhaled the sharp smells of cinnamon and cumin.

“Do you know why I was coming back from the Imperial City?” She breathed against him. Kastus moved them against the wall so the workers could pass by them with ease. He shook his head.

“To get back to your family in Hammerfell?” He guessed. She laughed bitterly, startling him.

“No. Little of my family is alive save for my uncle, myself, a few odd cousins, and possibly my two sisters. There is nothing left for me in Rihad. Isran—my uncle— travels the desert on pilgrimages so often, I do not know if I will ever see him again. One of my sisters, Aia, lives in the Imperial City with her husband. The other sister, Ashanta…Satakal knows where she is.

“I was in Cyrodiil, in my mother’s home, because she was forcing me to get married. I went through countless courtships, met a variety of different men. But I couldn’t do it. I would rather steal their riches and die on the street a day later than marry them and lead a long life, trapped. Imperial men want wives to stay home, take care of the children, and serve their every whim. Imperials want a mother for a wife. Do you know what Redguard men want?” Kastus shook his head; Ahlam looked up and smiled at him. “They want women who can best them in combat. I am surprised Sohrab did not propose to me that instance.” She laughed.

“Is that the sign of a weak men?” Kastus asked, genuinely intrigued by the Redguard customs. Ahlam nodded.

“Yes, because being defeated by women is a great honor. Having daughters is a great honor and my father was blessed with three of us. But back to our women: they are expected to be warriors, sailors, mercenaries, thieves if necessary, before they are a housewife. Those exist too but are far fewer.

“I know the pains of being seen solely as an object. All my suitors sized my waist with their eyes making sure I could fuck them for pleasure but also bring them sons. Because the girth on one’s hips determines that.” Ahlam scoffed and pulled away from Kastus. “Mathal, at least, looks at me as though I am a person. Someone he wants to fuck, sure. But also someone he could engage in conversation. And that is more than anyone has ever asked of me.”

Tears swelled in Ahlam’s eyes. Kastus pulled her into his embrace, feeling her shake and clutch him. He felt her heartbeat, strong and true against his own loud beat. _I will keep you safe, this I promise you. I will be your everything until I cannot. If I must sacrifice myself to keep you happy, I shall. You do not deserve such sadness._

His tunic grew damp with tears. He held her tightly, insisting for her to cry as much as she needed. And she did. There were there for minutes. Eventually, a young man, a kitchen servant, came to them and held a handkerchief silently. Ahlam thanked him and blew her nose. When she looked up at him, Kastus thought Ahlam was a beautiful cryer. Her eyes were swollen and red and her hair had gotten damn and even messier. Her nose ran and her breathing was shallow. But she was beautiful.

“Forgive me, Ahlam. I had no idea what you had been through. If you trust Mathal, then I shall trust him. I take back my cruel words; he may stay with us for as long as he needs.” Ahlam wiped her eyes with her fingers and nodded. She smiled weakly at him.

“Come on. We’ve been gone for so long, I’m sure breakfast is over.” Kastus laughed and they walked back to the main room, hand in hand. Mathal stood as they approached and glanced between them, worried. He noticed their entwined hands and sat back down, slowly. Kastus tried not to smirk at him.

Ahlam squeezed Kastus’s hand and sat with him instead of Mathal at the table. They ate their cold food, easing into conversation with everyone. Ahlam leaned her head against Kastus as he continued to eat slowly, telling more tales than eating. She chided him to eat—“far more important than your stories,” she insisted.

At the end of the meal, Ahlam called M’irhtba over. “Garlic shot?” The younger Redguard laughed but nodded. The two of them each took a clove of raw garlic and crossed arms. They ate the whole clove and chewed. The others watched in intrigue. Ahlam watched M’irhtba closely, but the woman's eyes began to water until finally, M’irhtba turned her head away. Ahlam cheered loudly, causing patrons of the inn to turn.

M’irhtba chuckled and stoked the coals of the hearth. Ahlam walked towards it and pulled off her boots. Kastus and Aela stepped to M’irhtba’s side as Ralof and Mathal hovered behind them.

“What is she doing?” Kastus asked. M’irhtba crossed her arms and smiled.

“You’ll see.” At that moment, Ahlam stepped onto the hot coals.

“One for a daughter. Two for a son!” She jumped up in the air and back onto the coals. “Three for a friend in need and four for a drink of mead.” A few of the men raised their tankards in salute. She danced around the coals. “Five for a lover so good and bright—” Ahlam jumped up and landed on the hard floor, sliding on her side.

Kastus rushed to her side as did Aela. Ralof, Mathal, and M’irhtba hovered nearby as a few patrons watched.

“What were you doing?” Kastus cried, holding her in his lap. She smiled at him before wincing.

“Old tradition. It’s to see how many years of luck we’ll have. I always get five.” Aela cradled her feet and began to heal the irritated skin.

“Why did you preform again?” Mathal questioned, touching his chin. Ahlam tried to push Aela’s hands away, but she made an irritated sound. Ahlam’s face fell and she looked to Mathal.

“Just to see if my future has changed. It’s fun playing with your destiny.” For some reason, Kastus felt the room darken. Destiny loomed over the group more heavily than anything else. Even the gods didn’t watch as closely as destiny. Destiny was the chess master who made each move.

After Ahlam could comfortably walk—“I could’ve walked with the burns fine!”—they decided to get ready to head into town. Kastus reminded them that they needed to visit the tailor first. Ralof agreed, thinking about how one should look presentable to the Jarl. Ahlam, Mathal, and Ralof went to their respective rooms to change while Kastus and Aela went to bathe.

The lavishness of the baths surprised Kastus. He bathed quickly however, as he had no desire to luxuriate. He spotted a razor off to the side with a basin and mirror. Touching his neck instinctively, he shrugged and walked to the razor. He cleaned the edges of his beard and, pleased, walked back upstairs, still in his nightclothes.

Aela passed him in the halls. She was wearing the blue dress that she had traveled in. Ralof was behind her, dressed in a simple blue tunic with silver knots along the edges of the waist and black riding pants. At their hips was their coin purses.

“Are you going out like that?” Aela asked, surprised. Kastus looked down at himself and shrugged.

“My other clothes are torn and I don’t think it’s appropriate to wear armor around the city.” Aela shook her head, disagreeing. Ralof walked passed them.

“Wear the armor until you have a change of clothes. You won’t look strange if that was your fear.” Kastus smiled and thanked Aela. She nodded before catching up to Ralof. Kastus found himself in his room once more, changing into the dull, loose leather armor from Helgen. _We should visit an armorer_. _See if we can’t get better gear_. He closed the door quietly behind him and heard laughter down the hall.

As he walked down, he saw Ahlam standing against the wall, arms crossed, chuckling. Mathal stood in front of her and reached for her shoulder. Suddenly, they both turned their heads and saw Kastus at the end of the hall. Wearily, Mathal dropped his hand and stepped away from Ahlam. She walked to Kastus, smiling brightly. She had tied her hair back and it fully exposed her terrifying facial tattoo.

“Ready to go?” Ahlam asked. He noticed that was wearing the same red dress from the Sleeping Giant Inn. It was far too short on her; the hem fell just passed her knees. He noticed the black woolen hose underneath.

“Still stealing, I see?” Kastus raised a brow and Ahlam shrugged. She truly did not care about stealing, but he understood it somehow. She only stole when it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“It’ll keep me warm. I have no reason to keep poor clothes.” Kastus rolled his eyes at her and she laughed, leading the way to the main room. Aela passed them maps of Skyrim and summoned a spell, passing over the hide.

“There. Now we’ll always be able to find each other.” Aela smiled at them. Mathal folded his map and tucked it into his long tunic. He bowed to show thanks to Aela.  “New places we discover will be marked as well.”

Indeed, as Ahlam and Kastus peered at their maps, they saw Helgen, Whiterun, and Riverwood written in a cursive script. The town’s symbols marked them. The rest of the map lay barren. Piled on top of one another were five colored markers: orange for Ahlam, emerald green for Kastus, navy for Aela, ice blue for Ralof and finally a bright yellow for Mathal.

“Any reason for these colors?” Ahlam asked. Aela shrugged and shook her head.

“You chose your own colors.” Kastus and Ahlam stole glances to each other, completely confused. “One last spell. This is to separate Skyrim into the nine Holds. This way, you know where you are.” Faint red lines marked the borders of the Holds of Skyrim. Ahlam and Kastus enthusiastically thanked her. Aela blushed slightly and waved them off. Ralof looked proud at his fiancée, while Mathal appeared distracted and watched the chattering patrons.

“First, we are to head to the tailor, correct?” Ahlam asked, receiving agreements. “Where are we headed to afterwards?” She pulled out a piece of paper from her dress pocket and some charcoal to write with. Kastus narrowed his eyes.

“Where did you get that?” Ahlam didn’t look up as she scribbled.

“Found it. Didn’t steal it.”

“I need to visit the Shrine of Kynerath.” Aela spoke matter-of-factly. Ahlam nodded and wrote.

“I need to see a armorer.” Kastus said. “Why are you making a list?” Ahlam looked up and grinned.

“I need to make a list to work through my day.”

“Did you put Helgen on your list?” Mathal asked, not staring at her. He received a slap to the chest. He chuckled and ducked inwards from the blow.

“Anywhere else we need to go before we go and see the Jarl?” Ahlam posed. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Good. We’ll visit the alchemist last then.” She wrote something down. With that, they waved farewell to M’irhtba and walked into the bright morning.

The market was full of life unlike the dreary state it was in yesterday. People shouted over each other, trying to entice would-be customers. Children laughed and ran about, playing tag. A guard patrol walked up the steps and a few guards stood about, speaking to each other.

They quickly walked down the steps so as to not block the door to the inn. Kastus watched Ahlam fiddle with the map. She expanded the map with two fingers. A map of Whiterun appeared before her. He raised her brows as she grinned. However, none of the buildings were named except for the inn. They walked towards a guard who was watching the marketplace, clearly bored. He was slouching against the pole. He stood up straight as they walked to him.

“We have a question.” Ahlam said. He glanced at them before glancing back at some of the people shopping.

“Ask.”

“Where’s the tailor?” The guard, without moving his head, pointed behind him.

“It’s next to Arcadia’s Cauldron.” Ahlam thanked him. They found Stallion Outfitters easily. A small Imperial man with shoulder-length brown hair and bright green eyes greeted them. He had an unnerving smile and a bright voice.

“Hello and welcome, travelers! My name is Adrian. Welcome to the Stallion—if you have need of anything, don’t hesitate to call.” The man was all smiles and teeth, putting Kastus on edge. They slowly split apart—Kastus went to the working men’s clothes, while Ahlam wandered to the noble’s clothes with Mathal following close behind. Aela and Ralof walked to the small section of magical robes.

“Might I interest you in these fine miner’s clothes?” The Imperial appeared beside Kastus, causing him to jump. “Durable black pants, perfect for tough work. And I have many different dyes for the shirt! It’s thin enough to sweat in, but durable enough to keep stains out from coal! What do you think?” He produced the said black pants and a clean white shirt. There was a thick, leather belt tied loosely around the shirt. Kastus leaned forward, reaching for it, when Ahlam appeared beside him.

“By Stendarr! Stop scaring me.” Kastus jumped. Ahlam glanced at him at him from the corner of his eye. She peered at the clothes.

“Adrian, do you have something similar, but aren’t meant for miners?” The man’s eyes gleamed and he took her hand. They walked towards the backroom. _What a strange man_ , Kastus thought. He found a green tunic and a long-sleeved dark green undershirt. There was a thick black sword belt. Brown leather pants were folded underneath and black riding shoes were in the open shelf.

“Ah, what an excellent choice.” Adrian appeared suddenly, examining the cloth in Kastus’s hands. It took everything in Kastus’s willpower to not scream. Adrian hopped next to Ralof, “what about you, sir?” Ralof, clearly unnerved, sidestepped Adrian and placed himself between Aela and the offending man. Aela didn’t seem to notice; she was leaned over the many different robes.

“Nothing. She’s looking.” Ralof clipped his words. Adrian just continued to smile eerily. Aela turned to him as though to ask a question. However, Adrian cut her off.

“Let us see you.” Aela faced him straight on. Adrian placed his hands on her shoulders and nodded to himself. “Judging by your skin, you use Restoration magic.” Aela gasped and widened her eyes. Even Ralof looked surprise. Kastus glanced to his right to see where Ahlam was, but couldn’t find her. However, he saw Mathal touching some very expensive fabrics mournfully.

“How did you—” Adrian held up his hand, silencing her.

“It’s my job to know everything. Now, back to the clothes. There are these hooded blue robes that will suit you just fine, but there is also this fine College robes; they are in imitation of the robes used at the College of Winterhold, but they are more durable and will suit any adventurer. Or traveler.” Aela nodded slowly, glancing at the College robes. There was a hood to match.

“I’ll take it.” Aela said simply. Adrian bowed.

“Excellent.” Ahlam wandered back into the room with a pair of black riding pants and a long-sleeved white shirt that had fitted sleeves. In her hands were tall black boots. Aela, Kastus, and Ahlam paid for their things. Kastus noticed that Ahlam’s bag looked fuller, but as soon as she pulled out her Redguard clothes, the thought disappeared.

“Adrian, I have a question.”

“Of course, my dear. What can I do for you?” She lay out the clothes she had taken from Sohrab.

“Can you wash these and tailor them to me?” Adrian chuckled.

“But of course! It is my job after all. Do you mind coming back in a few hours so I may size you?” Ahlam nodded, agreeing. Adrian smiled and took the clothes. “Perfect! And is there anything I can do for the rest of you?” Adrian glanced at the others. Kastus cleared his throat.

“If I may ask, where can we change?” Adrian smiled and pointed towards the back of the store.

“The changing rooms are there. You and your companions are welcome to change.” Aela, Ahlam, and Kastus headed into the rooms leaving Ralof in the main room to warm his hands by the fire. Mathal leaned against the counter, arms and ankles crossed.

“You have got to see these pants.” Ahlam called out, admiring herself in the mirror. Kastus laughed and exited. Indeed, the pants fit her form well and she pulled down the shoulders of the shirt to bare them slightly. She rolled up her pant legs and glanced at Kastus. He looked at her bare feet and noticed that there were two small scars on top of her right foot. “Well, aren’t you a sight?” He laughed again and admired himself in the mirror.

The dark green undershirt covered him completely, but the green tunic had a deep neck and revealed the undershirt. His pants fit him comfortably and he moved in them, practicing with an invisible dummy. As he brought his sword hand down, Ahlam caught his wrist. She smirked, raising her brow. He frowned, wondering why she hadn’t let go.

“Be careful of that move.” Kastus felt her hand brush his waist and, more importantly, his coin purse. He huffed, pulling away from her. She laughed loudly. “Aela! Where are you?” Kastus sat down on the bench and pulled up his riding boots and adjusted his sword belt, making sure Ahlam hadn't replaced his coins.

“Here I am.” Aela timidly pulled back the curtain. The robes were long and loose, cutting diagonally at her right knee down to her left calf. Her leggings were the same blue as her robes. She wore a long-sleeved undershirt that showed at the elbows. Aela had rolled up the sleeves and adjusted the belt around her waist. Across her shoulder was a smaller bag.

“I assume you’ll keep potions in there, yes?” Ahlam asked; Aela replied with a nod. “That’s smarter than carrying everything in your main bag.” Ahlam sat beside Kastus and pulled up her black boots.

“Yes, this was a good idea.” Aela walked towards the mirror and looked at her reflections, turning this way and that. Kastus watched the material float around her as though made with magic. “Oh, you look wonderful, Kastus!” Aela turned around, beaming at him. Kastus chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Aela. Shall we be off?” He gestured towards the door and the women nodded their heads. Kastus found a basket full of old clothes. Hoping it wasn’t laundry, he tossed his torn clothes. As the three of them entered the main area, Kastus noticed Adrian’s absence. Then he noticed Ralof and Mathal staring. Kastus rolled his eyes.

“Close your mouths or flies will get in. Though, I’ll be the one laughing when you two choke.” Kastus muttered and promptly, Ralof and Mathal closed their mouths. However, Ahlam and Aela began laughing—Ahlam, loudly as always, bent over in hysteria. Aela, far more reserved, laughed behind her hand and half-turned away as though ashamed to show her laughter. Mathal and Ralof looked dreamily at their respective women.

The group walked out of the store, not before Ahlam loudly thanked Adrian on behalf of the group. “He was nice,” Aela said, adjusting her bag. “We should visit him again.”

“Nice? He was downright creepy.” Ralof grumbled. Ahlam laughed at his uneasiness.

“I agree with Ralof. He was…odd.” Mathal spoke precisely, avoiding to offend the man, despite him not being present.

“Seriously. He kept appearing and disappearing. It was more than odd.” Kastus said. Aela and Ahlam glanced at each other before shrugging. They began heading up the steps that lead to the Jarl’s palace and Jorrvaskr. Kastus was excited to see the famed building. But before he could turn his head, Aela gasped loudly. Suddenly, she was running up the steps as a blur of blue. She tore through the children that were playing tag down the steps. A guard had to move to the side to avoid being knocked over.

“No! What happened to the Gildergreen?” Aela placed her hand on the bark of a tree. In the middle of the walkway was a large, white tree. It was burned. _From lightning_? Kastus wondered. Aela turned and dragged Ahlam and Ralof towards the Temple of Kynareth. “Come. We must see Danica!” Kastus and Mathal followed behind.

Inside the temple, Aela rushed to the side of one of the sick. Ahlam held the wall and pulled off her boots, tucking them into her bag before placing her hand over the crown of her head. The men stared at her in confusion.

“Divines are divines,” she explained with a shrug. “We show our respect in different ways. The least you three could do is remove your weaponry.” Ahlam explained. Without complaining, the men placed their weapons in their respective bags. Kastus eyed Ahlam, who bent her head down in prayer.

The temple was small and seemed to be ringing with spiritual power, soothing the group. Wooden posts held the building up and along the edges of the posts, greenery grew, bringing in color for the sick and dying. In the centre of the room was a tiled area. There was a raised, cross mosaic on the floor. Kastus noticed water filled the areas between the legs of the cross. The cross was the emblem of Kynareth: a bird in flight. The light from the windows seemed to strike it directly.

Three healing altars were spread around the titled area and two of them had people resting. A shrine to Kynareth with directly in front of them. On either side, lavender grew in abundance. An injured soldier reclined to the left; Aela was with the farmer on the right. A priest in brown robes passed them with a slight frown.

“Need something?” He asked curtly.

“What’s your name?” Ahlam asked.

“Jenssen.”

“Just Jenssen?” She crossed her arms and he nodded once.

“My title is Acolyte, but I don’t care much for titles. Names have more meaning.” Ahlam nodded and silence filled the group once more. Deeming them harmless, Jenssen went to tend to the soldier. "Patience. The body needs time to mend.” He reassured the soldier, grasping his hand tightly. He Jenssen let the healing spell pass into the man.

Kastus look at Aela. Her hands were aglow as she knelt at the side of an older woman. “I still can't hold nothin' down, but it's better than yesterday.” The woman mumbled. Aela muttered something  back. The magic continued to heal the woman, who soon fell asleep.

Ahlam looked up from her prayer. The light touched her face calmly and bathed it in a light sand shade. She stepped towards Aela and then men followed her as a shadow. Aela stood up quickly and the group stilled.

“Danica!” Aela called. A priestess emerged from the back room. Aela ran to her and embraced the priestess tightly, who hugged her just as fiercely. The priestess, Danica, pulled back and held Aela at arm’s length.

“Aela! It is so good to see you. The Temple has been missing you. What are you doing back in Whiterun?” Ahlam walked across the cross; her bare feet made a distinct, yet quiet sound. Kastus and Mathal followed her as a shadow. Ralof walked towards the Shrine.

“Dragons, Danica. Dragons have come back.” The priestess’s legs gave way, but Mathal was quick and caught her. He walked towards the wooden bench in the back of the room by the shrine. The group crowded around Danica. “I wish _I_ had been able to fall down. I saw it with my own two eyes instead.” Danica sprang up—causing the group to look worriedly at her—and held Aela’s arms.

“You what?!” Aela forced her to sit down once more. Ahlam poured Danica a glass of water from the pitcher. Danica drank it quickly.

“I promise you, Danica, I’ll tell you the tale. But first, you must tell me what happened to the Gildergreen.” Danica sighed and held Aela’s arms.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“Mind telling us the history?” Kastus asked. He knew that Ahlam, Mythal, and himself were clueless to the significance of the tree. Danica looked at him as though noticing him for the first time. 

“Of course. Outside is the Gildergreen. It was planted as a seedling in the early years of Whiterun. Disciples of Kynareth could sense something holy in it, and traveled far to hear the winds of the goddess in its branches. They built the temple. Of course, not as many pilgrims these days."

“What aren’t the pilgrims been coming?” Mathal inquired, furrowing his brow.

“A big dead tree isn't very inspiring if you're coming to worship the divine of wind and rains. Kynareth gives life, and we need a living tree to be her symbol.” The group nodded, understanding.

“What’s so special about this tree?” Ahlam questioned.

“It's an old tree. Very old. They say it was a seedling when the first men were arriving from Atmora, thousands of years ago. The sap is precious. It can restore barren fields or bring life to rocks. I can use it to repair the Gildergreen, so we can worship properly again.”

“Is there any way to revive the tree?” Aela pleaded, holding Danica’s hands. Danica nodded slowly, clearing thinking of something.

“To the east of here is a hidden grove where the Eldergleam resides. It's the oldest living thing in Skyrim. Maybe all of Tamriel. Our tree here in the city was grown from a cutting of that tree. You can still feel the glory of the mother tree through it. Even its name is an echo.

“Trees like this never really die. They only slumber. I think if we had some of the sap from the parent tree, we could wake up its child. But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn't tap it. Not with any normal metal."

“What kind of weapon world work then?” Kastus asked, intrigued.

“Eldergleam is older than metal, from a time before men or elves. To even affect it, you have to tap into the old magic. You'll have to deal with the Hagravens. I've heard about a weapon they've made for sacrificing Spriggans. It's called "Nettlebane." The hags terrify me, or I would have gone after it myself."

“I’ll get Nettlebane for you.” Aela said, standing up. Danica looked at her with horror.

“Aela, no! I can’t have you risking your life for that.” Aela smiled and shook her head.

“I won’t be alone. I have my friends. Where is it?” Danica sighed. She smiled softly at Aela and held her hands.

“Your spirit is strong. Kynareth's winds will guide your path. It's held in a Hagraven nest called Orphan Rock.” Danica pointed it out on Aela’s map. Aela kissed her hands.

“Thank you, Danica. We will be back soon.”

“No, thank you, Aela. And company.” Danica bowed her head before walking over to the farmer, who had awoken once more. Without delay, the group left the temple.

Kastus stopped and stared at the building on the left. It was seated on a hill, towering over the other buildings. It had a longboat as a roof and even Nordic shields still clung to the sill. There were gaps in the wood, allowing light—or rain—to come into the building. Two wooden dragons faced each other and guarded the top of the roof—or the bottom of the boat. The building underneath was properly constructed with double doors. There was a gate around the stairs leading up to the building. On the gate hung two red banners with a golden warhammer etched in the centre. They blew in the breeze.

“Do you wish to go there too, Kastus?” Ahlam asked, stepped towards him. She tilted her head in confusion; he knew that she didn’t know what they were looking at.

“No, no!” He whipped around quickly. “I’ll visit Jorrvaskr on my own. It’s fine.” Ahlam looked back at the building and whistled.

“So that is is Jorrvaskr. Impressive. We should visit if we have time today.” Kastus stared at her in disbelief.

“Are-are you sure? It is no trouble. I can visit it on my own another time.” Ahlam shrugged and looked back at her companions. Aela was encouraging and smiled at them. Ralof nodded his consent. Mathal was looking blankly ahead.

“We will go to Jorrvaskr tomorrow if we cannot today.” Ahlam stated. Kastus laughed happily. “For now, you wanted to go to the blacksmith?” Kastus nodded.

“I figured we should try to get new armor.” Kastus said. Aela led the group towards the main gate of the city. They passed a group of children playing tag and people purchasing goods at the market. As they neared the gate, they saw an Imperial woman with long brown hair, tied back in braids, standing with her arms crossed. She was speaking to a tall Nord with blond shoulder length hair. He had a thick, long beard and was garbed in the Imperial armor.

“We'll pay whatever it takes. But we must have more swords for the Imperial soldiers.” The Nord insisted. Kastus frowned and listened into the conversation. _I thought all Nords supported Ulfric_?

“I just can't fill an order that size on my own.” The woman sighed. “Why don't you swallow that stubborn pride of yours and ask Eorlund Gray-Mane for help?” The Nord immediately scoffed.

“Ha! I'd sooner bend my knee to Ulfric Stormcloak. Besides, Gray-Mane would never make steel for the Legion.” The Nord grumbled. 

“Have it your way. I'll take the job, but don't expect a miracle.” The woman shrugged and the Nord walked away without even glancing at the company. She turned back to the forge to begin working. Kastus glanced back at his companions. Ahlam muttered something quietly, and Mathal laughed; Ahlam’s mouth curved into a soft smile. Aela and Ralof were holding their own private conversations, glancing around anxiously.

Kastus stepped up to the workbench where the Imperial was looking at a pair of gauntlets. “Excuse us, are you a armorer?” The woman looked up and squinted.

“Yes. I’m Adrianne. You must be new here if you’re coming to me first.” Adrianne looked him up and down. Kastus flushed slightly. Adrianne continued, “got some good pieces out here, if you're looking to buy. More inside.” Kastus swallowed and smiled pleasantly at Adrianne.

“Can you help us find some new armor?” Adrianne looked back at the other four behind him and again at Kastus. She straightened herself and ushered them inside.

—

A few hours passed as Adrianne and her husband, Ulfberth, fitted Ahlam and Kastus with new armor. Ralof asked for his armor to be cleaned while Mathal rejected their service. They walked out the Warmaiden’s with less coin. Kastus sighed.

“Mathal, I noticed you don’t wear any armor or even robes. Why is that?” Ahlam asked around Kastus. Mathal shrugged.

“I am more a traveler than a fighter. I wield a bow, but have found no reason to use it. I told you that I came to Whiterun for diplomatic reasons to discuss the wellbeing of Valenwood.” Mathal explained and Ahlam nodded.

“Right, I remember. I was just surprised you don’t use magic or anything. You elf types always seem—”

“It’s wrong to assume all “elf types” use magic as it is wrong to assume all Redguards are savages who sleep around.” Ahlam drew away from Mathal and even Kastus glanced wearily at him. Kastus reached out to grab Ahlam’s hand. “No, I do not use magic. I never learned the craft.” Ahlam nodded once and continued to stare at the stone streets. Kastus squeezed her hand slightly before withdrawing his hand.

“What’s next on our list?” Kastus asked Ahlam. She pulled out the list slowly and glanced over it.

“I still need to go visit the alchemist as well as Adrian again to see if my clothes are washed. We could also get lunch, if you are hungry.” Kastus looked at Aela and Ralof. They glanced at each other and then shrugged.

“I’m not particularly hungry,” Kastus stated. Ahlam nodded.

“To the alchemist’s then.” Ahlam led the way, asking a few people where the shop was located. The sun was passing its zenith in the sky. Kastus felt giddy as they walked. _Perhaps it’s because I’m in Whiterun. The city where the Companions live. I even saw Jorrvaskr with my own eyes! I’m one step closer to understanding why Father left…_

“Kastus, are you all right?” Aela’s warm hand on his shoulder startled Kastus out of his thoughts. She smiled pleasantly at him and he nodded, smiling back.

“Yes, I’m well. Thank you, Aela.” Ahlam lead the group back towards Stallion Outfitters and a few other shops they hadn’t entered. The signpost above one of the doors was the symbol of a healing potion bubbling in its glass vial. Ahlam pushed the door open and walked in without waiting.

The room—for there was just one room and thus no reason to call it a shop—was dimly lit by a roaring fire. The windows were open, allowing the sounds from the market to pour in. The smell of the room was rich and intoxicating. Kastus marveled at all the strange ingredients and smells. Ahlam was already in quick conversation with the alchemist about odd herbs and recipes.

Not being able to keep up, Kastus wandered the store. Aela walked with him, just as intrigued and wary. They did not reach out to touch anything but muttered quietly to each other, wondering what each thing could do.

Ralof reclined against the wall of the store near the fire while Mathal joined him, sitting on the rug with a book in hand.

“How long do you think Ahlam will take?” Aela whispered as they made another loop around the room. Kastus shrugged. He pointed to a small table in the corner of the shop.

“Want to sit with me?” He asked. Aela nodded and as they sat, they noticed a deck of cards. They began to play a game and invited Ralof to sit with them. Mathal declined and continued to read on the floor.  For nearly an hour, Arcadia, the alchemist, and Ahlam brewed potions and poisons. They chatted amiably all the while.

Aela beat Kastus for the third time. Just as frustration crept at the back of Kastus’s neck—and he nearly accused Aela of cheating—Ahlam announced she had finished. Mathal glanced up from his book and smiled. Aela and Kastus reorganized the cards, stacking them neatly as Ralof pushed in the chairs. Ahlam hugged Arcadia and thanked her again before the company of five walked out of the store.

“You took your time.” Ralof commented. Ahlam stretched before shrugging.

“It took some time to make a healing potion made primarily of butterflies.” Kastus stared at her.

“You actually did that?” Ahlam grinned and nodded.

“I told you, the best damn potion you’ll ever taste.” Ralof, Aela, and Kastus laughed.

“I can’t wait to try it,” Ralof said, running a hand through his hair. Aela nodded as well.

“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be great!” The group continued to walk about before Aela shyly asked if they would stop for lunch. The others agreed happily and they found a small, open restaurant. They ordered a plate of various cheeses and meats; Ahlam asked for imported, Khajiit tea. The water was a vibrant red and Kastus peered into the wooden cup curious.

“Would you like a sip?” Kastus blinked and nodded once. Ahlam smiled and passed the cup to him. He sipped the hot water and it felt like a flower bloomed on his tongue. The tea was mildly sweet and had a full taste.

“That’s wonderful. What is it called?”

" _Kanjeer_. I’m sure I’m saying it wrong as I don’t speak Ta'agra.” Kastus laughed and ate some brie with his finger.

“Perhaps, but it sounds right. It’s very good, the tea.” Kastus pointed to the cup. Ahlam smiled again.

“That it does.” The conversion flowed around the table as time passed. When it neared late afternoon, Ahlam stretched. Her arms were over her head and she stretched her legs, gently kicking into Ralof. “Oh, sorry.” He shook his head and smiled. “We should go see if Adrian’s ready to tailor my clothes.”

“Oh!” Aela exclaimed, covering her mouth, “I completely forgot about that.” Kastus nodded.

“I did as well. Let’s go check.” Kastus spoke as he stood and pushed in his chair. The others followed suit as Kastus led them back to the Stallion. Upon entering, Kastus noted the dull firelight and Adrian, brows furrowed, as he was looking down on Ahlam’s soon to be fitted robes. He looked up after hearing the boots of everyone against the wooden floor.

“Ah, my darling, there you are!” He smiled at Ahlam and moved towards her. “You have such excellent timing.” Ahlam smiled graciously and let herself be lead to the back room. Kastus wondered how often she had smiled like that to men she had no interest in. He listened in the conversation of how he talked about nothing in particular, and Kastus noticed, her words were just as meaningless.

 _She’s too good_. _She’s been playing this game for how long_? A glimmer caught his eye and Kastus turned. Mathal was bent over expensive cloaks once more. He let his long elven fingers touch the thick, dyed materials. Despite the dim light and even his half shadowed form, his earrings glimmered in the light. Curiosity mingled with slight confusion, Kastus titled his head.

Kastus looked to Aela and her seated on the floor. Ralof resting his head in her lap and she ran her fingers through his hair. Aela looked up and smiled softly at Kastus. He saw the slightest hint of melancholy and nearly asked her what was wrong, but she ducked her head back down to look at Ralof.

Kastus turned his attention back down the hallway where he saw Ahlam standing on a small stool, pins sticking out from various places in the cloth. After a moment, Adrian pulled away and smiled. Ahlam undressed carefully, before redressing in her red dress.

“Thank you again, Adrian.” Adrian bowed his head as he walked with Ahlam to the door.

“Please, my dear. It’s nothing at all. ’Tis my job.” Ahlam shook her head and handed him a bag of coins.

“Here, for your trouble.” Adrian shook his head and held the fabrics in his hand tighter.

“No, thank you, dearest. Keep it. It will serve you well.” Ahlam frowned and titled her head to the side. Kastus crossed his arms and glanced at Mathal. He was staring at Ahlam, hunger in his eyes. Sparing a glance at Ralof and Aela, Kastus saw Ralof yawn and lean slightly into Aela, who held his waist. He gave her a toothy smile.

Ahlam bowed her head and, without waiting on anyone, walked out of the Stallion. They all bid Adrian farewell; he smiled pleasantly at them and waved at them, still holding the Redguard cloth to his chest. Upon stepping outside, they saw Ahlam glancing about nervously.

“Haven’t been sleeping well, Ralof?” Ahlam walked in stride with the slow pace of Ralof. Kastus listened in as Aela walked with him. They began walking back to the marketplace. Ralof stretched and yawned again.

“Not particularly, no. I’ve been plagued with nightmares. Do you have a potion for that?” Ralof jokingly asked. Kastus moved his long hair to the other shoulder as he peered over at Ahlam. She pulled a small, white vial out of the traveling bag.

“This should help you. Take it an hour before you go to bed. No sooner and no later. Don’t take it with any alcohol. You have to drink water. Just three to five drops depending on the level of nightmares. If it gets worse, tell me.” Ralof stared at her, wide-eyed and tears began to sit at the edge of his eyes. She placed the vial in his hand and he looked at it intently. Kastus couldn’t read the script on the bottle from this distance.

“Thank you, Ahlam.” Ralof whispered as he brought the bottle to his chest. Ahlam smiled and patted his shoulder before walking on the other side of Kastus. They climbed the steps past the burnt Gildergreen. Kastus saw two people arguing in the street. _In public_? _Have you no shame_?

“I know your family's honour is important to you, but we can't afford it!” The female Redguard with a thick braid against her chest, stood akimbo. She spoke sternly to whom Kastus assumed was her husband. The man was defeated judging by his dropped shoulders and tilted down head.

Ralof and Aela lead the way up the large steps towards the Jarl’s Palace. Mathal followed after them; his steps were nearly silent. Kastus followed slowly and paused after noticing Ahlam was not beside him. He turned around and saw her standing by the arguing couple. Her hands were twined in front of her as she nervously looked on. Kastus sighed and looked back at his companions. They had nearly reached the height of the steps.

Without thinking any longer, Kastus walked back down the steps. He overhead part of the conversation.

“It took me weeks to find that thieves' den.” The man pleaded. “I can't stop now, and I can't get the sword on my own.”

“So you're willing to starve your wife and daughter to reclaim some rusty old sword?” The woman retorted. Ahlam balled her hands into fists and took a step forward. Kastus mimicked her and stepped forward. He didn’t want her to attack anyone over a simple blade.

“I just need to hire one, maybe two good men. You won't starve."

“I'll put it plainly. You can claim your sword, or you can keep your wife. If you set foot outside the gate, I won't be here when you return.” The woman turned sharply and quickly strode away from her husband.

“Saffir! Wait…I…” He called out for her but she was already gone. He balled his hand into a fist and wandered to sit at the bench of the Gildergreen. Ahlam stood in front of him as Kastus moved closer. He leaned against the back of the tree and listened to the two Redguards speak.

“What was that about?” The man sighed.

"My Saffir doesn't like that I've been spending so much time looking for my father's old sword. He fed his entire family with the gold he made using that weapon. I'm not about to let it gather dust in some thief's trophy room."

“I can help you.” Ahlam spoke quickly and surely. Kastus blinked and turned his head, hoping to catch her face. _What is she thinking_?

"I tracked it to a group of bandits nearby. But I'm no fool. I'd need the Whiterun guards or maybe hire the Companions to get it. I don't know why I'm saying this, but if you find it out in your travels, I'd be grateful to you." Kastus listened to the strange sound of some scratching on parchment.

“What’s your name, stranger?” She probed him further.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m Amren. Pleased to meet you.”

“Ahlam. Likewise. This is an obvious question, but you aren’t from Skyrim, are you?” Amren laughed. Kastus couldn’t help but smile at the light sound.

"Ha! And neither are you, eh? Good to see another Redguard. I like to think we bring a little heat to this frozen wasteland.” Ahlam bade him farewell and Kastus watched her walk past the tree towards the Jarl’s Palace. She barely turned her head and, without looking up at him, nodded slightly Kastus smirked. _I should’ve known she knew where I was_.

Kastus quickly caught up to her on the stairs. “Can’t help but aid your kinsfolk?” Kastus commented. Ahlam shrugged.

“I miss home.”

—

The Jarl’s guards, the Dawn of the Promised, stopped them. The group spoke with them and requested an audience with the Jarl about the state of Riverwood. The guards forcefully explained that they were to be civil and fill out paperwork or leave.

Ahlam curled her hand into a fist, but Kastus lightly touched her shoulder and shook his head. Mathal had been the one to fill out the forms for them. “As an ambassador, filling out paperwork is more than half the job.” He smiled at them before handing the parchment back to the Dawn. They nodded in thanks.

“The Jarl will see you tomorrow two hours past dawn.” Mathal nodded and bowed his head slightly, still taller than the guards.

“Thank you kindly. We shall see you tomorrow.” He ushered the group down the steps away from Dragonsreach. The sun was beginning to set, painting the warm colors of Whiterun an even brighter yellow and orange. The wind was mild, yet dry thanks to the agricultural nature of the city.

“Should we go stop at the inn and get dinner?” Ahlam asked. Everyone nodded and agreed and together, they made their way back to the Bannered Mare. Upon entering, Kastus looked around for M’irhtba. She was seated at one of the tables out of uniform, smiling and laughing with a few other women.

Kastus smiled as he went to find someone else who was working. As the others seated themselves in the same corner under the stairs, Kastus found another Redguard named Saadia. She had shoulder-length wavy hair and was as dark as dying embers. Her muddy brown eyes narrowed as Kastus requested food be brought to their table. She left in a huff.

Kastus blinked, finding her unpleasant, but shook his head and made his way to the table. Ralof and Aela were talking to Mathal about something, but he seemed uninterested. His arms were crossed across his chest and he stared off towards the front of the inn. Kastus followed his gaze as he took his seat. He spotted Ahlam leaned against a pillar, talking with M’irhtba and the other women. In this light, Kastus noticed all the women were dark-skinned.

Exhausted, Kastus sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Ralof rested his head against Aela’s shoulder, burying his features in her hair. She spoke to him quietly, holding onto his waist. He looked sickly in the light and he breathed shallowly against Aela’s neck. Kastus watched as her hands glowed a bright orange as she tried to soothe him.

Ahlam appeared suddenly beside him. He jumped in surprise. “M’irhtba was requesting to sit with us.” Aela and Kastus both nodded.

“She’s more than welcome to.” Aela said, smiling.

“Please, tell her to come.” Kastus replied. Ahlam nodded and turned around to gesture to M’irhtba. She dragged a chair with her and sat at a makeshift head of the table. Kastus took his seat against the stairs and Ahlam took her usual place beside him. Mathal sat to her left. Ralof and Aela sat on the opposite side of the table against the wall.

“So, what’s for dinner?” M’irhtba asked, causing everyone to laugh. _This is what family feels like._ This _is what I want. Father has to come back and then we’ll be together again_. Kastus smiled at everyone around him. It was an odd bunch, but somehow right.

Before Saadia could bring their meal around, the doors to the inn were flung open. The wind fought with the hearth fire. Everyone turned their gaze to see an odder bunch walk in: a Nord, a Redguard, a Bosmer, a Khajiit, and an Altmer. The Altmer closed the door behind them.

The strange group looked akin to bandits, Kastus thought. Upon their worn armor were blood splatters and gore. They weapons they carried were large and not at all decorative. Kastus spotted a battle-axe, two maces, a bow and arrow, and sword. _These men could slaughter the whole room_.

Kastus looked at the others in his group. Ahlam had a hand on the dagger he crafted for her and Aela matched her. Ralof, though weary, moved to hold his waraxe. Mathal clenched his fist slightly. The others in the inn had tensed as well and Kastus saw a few of them hold onto simple weapons. Only a few seemed capable in a real fight.

The Nord took a step forward and the room grew even more still. He was the most imposing of the group from height to muscularity. Two blond braids framed his face as the rest sat loose along his shoulders. His eyes were kind and blue and his smile came easily. 

“Calm, my good folk.” He held out his hands as he spoke. His voice was booming but not very deep. “My companions and myself are not here to hurt you. We simply need a place to wash and rest up and then we shall be on our way.” The patrons of the inn did not move.

“We are not bandits as it may seem,” he gestured to his bloodied armor, “but in fact treasure hunters. None of us has killed a single person since we’ve met each other. Just very large spiders.” The Nord laughed and a few others awkwardly laughed. He bowed. “My name is Bjorn. This fellow is my right-hand man.”

Bjorn threw his arm around the Redguard, who had been scanning the room perpetually. His skin was nearly as black as his short hair and his lips were set in a perpetual frown. “His name is Urbdawash. I know it’s a hard name, but he doesn’t talk much.” As if on cue, Urbdawash grunted. Bjorn laughed loudly and Kastus was reminded distinctly of Ahlam.

“And we have Yanniss, Nakir, and Zanik. They’re good folk.” Bjorn gestured to the Altmer, Khajiit, and Bosmer respectively. Yanniss bowed his head while Nakir looked about in boredom. Zanik, the Bosmer, was fidgeting with his bow. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner!” Bjorn smiled apologetically before walking to Hulda. Very slowly, whispers began to trickle through the inn before conversation flowed.

“Well, they’re an interesting bunch.” Ahlam muttered as Saadia set down meats, cheeses, stews, and grilled vegetables in front of them. Aela hummed in agreement and ran her fingers through Ralof’s hair. His eyes were closed and his form was mostly hidden by the table. “Ralof, do you wish to eat anything?”

“No, thank you, Ahlam.” Ralof responded tiredly. Ahlam frowned.

“Head to bed then. You need to rest. Don’t forget about the sleeping draught and here.” Ahlam shifted her pouch around and Kastus watched her pull out stalks of lavender. “Crush these in your pillow before you sleep.” Ralof sat up slowly and smiled at her.

“Thank you, Ahlam. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Ralof nodded to everyone before leaving the table. Aela sighed. Kastus watched the strange group take a seat at one of the large tables.

Zanik was still fidgeting with everything he could touch. He was a lean, small thing with short, coarse black hair. His skin was a light green color like new budding leaves. The Khajiit, Nakir, by contract, was completely still. His tail gently moved and his ears twitched at different conversations, but he mainly sat still at the table. Kastus saw the tale-tell of piercings in his ears. He counted three rings. _Three years of slavery_. Yanniss, who had a stern face like all High Elves, was very cheery. He smiled at everyone and everyone seemed to enjoy his company.

 _Could they all be_ … _friends_? No one seemed like they were with the others against their will, but it was difficult to tell. Abuse has a way of hiding in pleasing forms.

Dinner passed with relative ease and simplicity. Mathal left as soon as he had finished eating. Aela, Kastus, Ahlam, and M’irhtba remained, changing seats to sit closer to one another. They talked about everything and nothing. They found out that M’irhtba had moved to Whiterun at the age of seventeen.

“I grew up in Falkreath for a few years before coming to find my own path in life.” M’irhtba smiled and took a sip of her ale. Kastus smiled at her, proud she would take the initiative and become the master of her fate. Ahlam reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

Kastus watched both Redguards curiously. One spoke too fast and too much, over eager and lovely. The other was too silent, too stoic, and cautious. Ahlam listened to M’irhtba carefully and occasionally nodded or spoke a word or two, but said little else. M’irhtba rattled off everything. Nervous clutched her breast; her hands were tightly wound in her skirt.

Aela watched the fire dance in the hearth before stretching. She yawned loudly. “Excuse me!” She blushed slightly and ran her fingers through the end of her braid. “I must be going off to sleep now. I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.” She smiled and bid them each farewell before walking up the stairs.

M’irhtba smiled and nodded. She slowly rose. “We should all head to bed. I hear you will be meeting with the Jarl tomorrow?” Ahlam nodded.

“That is the plan,” Kastus responded.

“I hope everything works out, then.” M’irhtba smiled brightly. “Goodnight Kastus, Ahlam. Sleep well.” She tucked in the chair and walked towards the back end of the inn. Ahlam sighed and slumped in her chair. She sounded older than normal. Kastus frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you well?” He whispered. Ahlam drew her knees to her chest and leaned into his chest. He held her. He felt her skull against his chest and his heart seemed to beat louder and more insistently, wanting to be heard.

“I am tired, Kastus. I am so tired.” Ahlam muttered into his tunic. He sighed slightly before kissing her crown. In this moment, they were simply two souls who desired a better fate.

“As am I, Ahlam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 11,425


	9. Chapter IX — Whiterun [Aela]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Jarl, getting stuck in another task, leaving companions, and joining the Companions.

Aela covered her mouth again as she giggled. Ahlam yawned for the third time this morning. 

“It’s too early to meet anyone, jarl or not.” Ralof chuckled. His eyes shined brightly and his tanned skin shone. Whatever Ahlam had given him worked and Aela was thankful. Despite her knowledge in the healing arts, dreams were a different realm of magic. That had been her biggest regret as heater for the army—not being able to soothe nightmares.

The group of five walked towards Dragonsreach. Aela fidgeted with the outline of the College robes and spared a glance to Mathal. The elf, done in a simple forest green tunic and hunting trousers with long leather hunting boots, towered over everyone. _He looks like he came from a tree itself_.

“…you said, “Let me show you the power of Talos Stormcrown, born of the North, where my breath is long winter. I breathe now, in royalty, and reshape this land which is mine. I do this for you, Red Legions, for I love you.”” Aela turned her head and saw a priest of Talos preaching loudly. Aela smiled at him and looked up at the statue. The stone was a dark green and shadowed, but Aela felt strength in seeing him.

The guards opened the doors to Dragonsreach as they approached. Aela was taken aback by the expansive foyer. They passed a few servants who were cleaning. Upon walking up the stairs, Aela noticed the large, burning hearth. The room was aglow pleasantly by the fire as well as the natural sunlight from the high windows. Two long tables, covered only in tablecloths, stretched towards the throne. The Jarl was seated in his throne, fist against his cheek as he listened to his advisor and housecarl.

“I only council caution. We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these.” An older Imperial bent towards him. Judging by his fine clothing, Aela assumed he was the Jarl’s advisor.

“What would you have me do, then? Nothing?” Jarl Balgruuf snapped. His advisor shrank back slightly.

“My lord, please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more action before we act.” The advisor pleaded. Jarl Balgruuf huffed, stubborn as many Nords. As the advisor began again, Aela’s sight was blocked. Ahlam had silently moved in front of her and held out her hands defensively.

The housecarl, a Dunmer, approached the group with a drawn sword. The Jarl noticed his missing housecarl and leaned forward. “Who’re they?” Immediately, Aela and Ralof dropped to their knees. Kastus followed suit with barely a pause. Mathal and Ahlam remained standing.

“What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors.” The Dunmer growled.

“Gerdur sent us; Riverwood is in danger.” Ralof’s voice was muffled from his bowing position. _Had the guards not mentioned us_?

“As Housecarl, my job is to deal with all dangers that Jarl or his people. So, you have my attention. Now, explain yourself.” The woman’s voice cut sharper than her blade ever could. Aela closed her eyes and hoped Ahlam wasn’t glaring at her.

“A dragon has destroyed Helgen and we have news from the dragon attack.” Aela added.

“You know about Helgen? Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then.” She sheathed her blade. “The Jarl will want to speak with you personally. Approach.” The kneeling members of the party rose—Aela glared at Ahlam and Mathal, who deflected it with bored looks—and the group of five approached the Jarl.

Jarl Balgruuf had aged since the last time she saw him. She knew it was being of ruling amid a civil war and being in the middle of the war torn Skyrim. It was surprising to see his hair was still blond; it gave her hope.

Instead of letting it hang loosely, he now tied two locks of hair into small braids to rest by his temples. Aela noticed that his robes had small holes here and there from use and there were uneven seams at the sleeves. Aela held in laughter at the realization that the Jarl had ripped the sleeves.

“What’s this about Riverwood being in danger?” The Jarl leaned forward in his throne. Aela, Ralof, and Kastus approached the throne with their heads bend. Mathal and Ahlam lingered behind, standing guard. “Come now, you three must look at me like this Redguard and Bosmer. They have guts.” The three of them glanced up in surprise and Balgruuf smiled kindly at them.

“A dragon destroyed Helgen. Gerdur is afraid Riverwood is next.” Ralof explained with worry for his sister.

“Gerdur? Owns the lumber mill, if I'm not mistaken...Pillar of the community. Not prone to flights of fancy…And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?” The Jarl spoke slowly, realizing what had happened. Aela nodded her head as Ralof verbally confirmed the story.

“So, you all were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?” Jarl Balgruuf’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he looked over each of them.

“I wasn’t at Helgen, my lord.” Mathal spoke quietly like a gently breeze. Jarl Balgruuf blinked before frowning slightly.

“I assume you are here on official business.” Balgruuf leaned back in his throne and gestures to Mathal. Aela turned to look at him and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Mathal smiled.

“You have keen eyes, my lord. I shall speak with you once they have finished speaking of Helgen.” The Jarl nodded once and looked to the other four. Mathal stepped away from them.

“So, the draogn. You each saw it?” Ahlam chuckled, calling attention to her. She shrugged with her arms crossed.

“I had a great view of the dragon while the Imperials were trying to cut off my head.” Ahlam rolled her eyes. Aela felt her blood freeze. _Out of all the times to speak out of turn_ … The Jarl tilted his head.

“Really? You're certainly...forthright about your criminal past. But it's none of my concern who the Imperials want to execute. Especially now. What I want to know is what exactly happened at Helgen.”

“The Imperials were about to execute Ulfric Stormcloak. Then the dragon attacked.” Ralof explained. Aela stared at the linen shirt Ralof wore. _No one can see his Stormcloak brand_ , _no one_. The material was thick enough along his chest that it would not be seen, but Aela thought somehow, the Jarl Balgruuf would be able to see it.

The Jarl nodded slowly. “I should have guessed Ulfric would be mixed up in this.” Ralof shifted, uneasy. Aela felt her stomach squeeze in remembrance.

“The dragon destroyed Helgen. And last we saw it was heading this way.” Kastus stepped forward finally. The Jarl sprung out of his seat, catching the group in surprise.

“By Ysmir, Irileth was right! What do you say now, Proventus?” Jarl Balgruuf turned towards the Imperial advisor. “Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

“My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains…” The Dunmer, Irileth, spoke calmly to the Jarl. Proventus, by contrast, spoke hastily.

“The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him.”

“Enough!” Jarl Balgruuf silenced everyone. The throne room flickered with the sound of the hearth. The servants were in the kitchen and the guards faded further into the wall. Jarl Balgruuf straightened his shoulders. “Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

"Yes, my Jarl.” Irileth placed her fist against her chest, bowed, and walked backwards until near a flight of stairs. Aela watched her and a few guardsmen run up the stairs.

"We should not…” Proventus mumbled, hand outstretched, but the Jarl cut him off.

"I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!” Jarl Balgruuf angrily exclaimed as he turned on his heel. He pointed one finger at Proventus. Proventus nodded and bowed his head.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties.” Jarl Balgruuf sighed and sat back down in his throne.

"That would be best.” Proventus with his head still bowed, exited the room. The throne room remained silent as Aela glanced at the others. Kastus nervously glanced at her before looking to Ralof; he shrugged slightly. Ahlam was busy staring at the dragon skull above the throne.

Jarl Balgruuf sighed deeply.  “Well done. You all sought me out. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Here, take these as a small token of my esteem.” His snapped his fingers and a few guards brought out armor.

Ahlam took the set of elven armor graciously. Kastus received leather armor and Aela was given a set of dark purple robes. She thanked the guards. Despite not being good at Destruction magic, who was she to refuse a gift from the Jarl. A steel great sword was presented to Ralof.

“I hope that shall suffice for you all.” The four of them thanked the Jarl. Mathal, who had distanced himself from the group, strode to the Jarl. “Oh, and bring the elf something as well. Whatever he likes.” A risk of a command and Mathal knew it.

Without moving from his arms crossed position, he spoke, “the finest bow you have.” The guards glanced at each other before leaving for the armory. Eventually, they returned with a beautiful crafted Elven bow. Mathal held it and without looking at it, thanked the Jarl.

“Before we begin to discuss Valenwood, I have a favor to ask the four of you.” Jarl Balgruuf stood. “It is suitable for people of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons.” Aela eyed Ralof, who very carefully shrugged. She glanced at Ahlam—she was frowning and didn’t move. Kastus took her hand and tugged it.

Mathal remained in the throne room, bow still in hand. He remained still as a tree as the group followed the Jarl. “I'll introduce you to Farengar. He can be a bit... difficult. Mages. You know.” Out of reflex, Aela scoffed. The Jarl looked at her quizzically and Aela felt her cheeks flush. She ducked her head away from his gaze.

Jarl Balgruuf continued: “Farengar is probably puttering around in his lab. Day and night. I'm not sure he ever sleeps.” He led them into a spacious room. Ahlam whistled, impressed. Aela spotted the rafters high above them. To the right was a hide map of Skyrim. In the very centre of the room was a large table covered in spell tomes, soul gems, papers, charcoal, and alchemy ingredients. Against the back wall was an alchemy and an enchanting table.

The mage Farengar was pacing in the room and muttering to himself. His blue robes hid everything, but even still, Aela felt his power. Ahlam brushed shoulders with her. Aela inclined her head down. Ahlam whispered, “Aela, don’t ever become that crazy.” Aela exhaled a light laugh.

Jarl Balgruuf cleared his throat. “Farengar, I think I've found some people who can help you with your dragon project.” Farengar looked up in surprise at the company. One of the soul gems in his hand fell down. He cursed and crawled underneath the table. “Go ahead and fill them in with all the details.” Jarl Balgruuf finished with a slight chuckle. He excused himself from the group.

Farengar looked up from under the table. “So the Jarl thinks you lot can be of use to me?” Aela noticed he had a slight lisp. Farengar nodded once, talking at them instead of directly to them. “Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.”

Ahlam tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “What does this have to do with dragons?” Aela asked, stepping forward. Farengar peered at her for a moment. She watched as a smile grew on his face.

“Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker—perhaps even a scholar?” Aela was surprised by the compliment. Farengar cleared his throat. “You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?"

Ahlam cleared her throat and stepped to Aela. She rested her hand on the table and leaned into Farengar. “All right. So where are we going and what are we fetching?” _Clearly_ , _she doesn’t like the history_. Farengar chuckled.

"Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?” Suddenly, the air became tense. Aela peered at Ahlam through the corner of her eye. Ahlam narrowed her eyes and drew away from the table.

“You're overheating that essence of spriggan sap. And if you take another step backwards, you’ll step into your own Shock Rune.” Aela’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. As she looked behind Farengar, she saw the faint glowing rune of electricity on the floor. Farengar spun around on his heel.

“What? I'm not even…ah, I see. You have some knowledge of the alchemical art and of the Higher Art.” Ahlam smirked at him and raised her chin. Farengar dispelled the spell. He walked to the alchemy table and reduced the heat of the sap.

“Just tell us what you need us to do.” Kastus said, glancing warily at Ahlam. She barely shrugged.

"You are eager to begin your adventure. Excellent. The sooner begun, the sooner done, eh?” Farengar cleared his throat. “I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow—a “Dragonstone,” said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet—no doubt interred in the main chamber—and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.” Farengar explained and clasped his hands together in front of him.

“Tell us about Bleak Falls Barrow.” Ralof said. He sat on the corner of the table. Farengar frowned in annoyance.

“An old tomb, built by the ancient Nords, perhaps dating back to the Dragon War itself. Ah. Maybe you just want to know how to get there. It's near Riverwood, a miserable little village a few miles south of here. I'm sure some of the locals can point you in the right direction once you get there.” Ralof and Aela glared at him. Ahlam cut in before they could say anything.

“How do you know this stone tablet is in Bleak Falls Barrow?”

“Well. Must preserve some professional secrets, mustn't we? I have my sources…reliable sources.” Farengar shifted uneasy. Ahlam narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

“You mentioned the Dragon War earlier. What’s that?” Kastus questioned, glancing at his Nordic companions. Ralof shrugged and Aela shook her head. She listened to Farengar with interest; Ralof, on the other hand, was playing with the dagger on the table. He lightly twisted it in his hand and chipped the wood.

“I'm not surprised you've never heard of it. Even I used to think it was just a myth. But not anymore. The Dragon War was a real event, although only the barest glimmer of the actual events has come down to us. Far back in the Mythic Era, the dragons were worshipped as gods in Skyrim. Many of the monumental ruins that still dot the landscape were, in fact, built as temples to the dragons. The details are lost, but at some point the Nords rebelled. After a long and terrible war, the Nords overthrew their dragon overlords.”

“So, were all the dragons killed in the Dragon War?” Kastus questioned further, intrigued. Farengar shook his head.

“Oh, no. Many were killed, of course. But many survived into historical times. Why, this very palace was built by one of Balgruuf's ancestors to hold a captive dragon. Hence its name—Dragonsreach.”

“Have you encountered any dragons?” Aela asked, suddenly. Farengar shook his head sadly.

“Sadly, no. My work affords me few opportunities for such an adventure. Perhaps some hero will bring one to Dragonsreach, like old Olaf One-Eye once did. What a fascinating conversation that would be!

“Ack. No more questions! Off to Bleak Falls Barrow with you. The Jarl is not a patient man. Neither am I, come to think of it.” With that, Farengar dismissed them from his room. They slowly walked back to the throne room.

“We didn’t sign up for this.” Ahlam pointed out. “Gerdur just wanted us to make sure the Jarl knew Riverwood was in danger. Now that that’s taken care of, I’m leaving.” Kastus stopped walking and Ralof bumped into him. Aela looked back to them in worry.

“You’re…leaving us?” Kastus asked quietly. Ahlam stopped and turned. In the open hall, with the morning light pouring in from the high windows, Aela thought Ahlam was beautiful. Stubbornness rested on her mouth and fists, but what surprised Aela was to see love and concern in the woman’s eyes.

“Ahlam,” Aela stepped forward with a slight frown and an outstretched hand. “Ralof and I have a  war to win. Kastus is joining the Companions. You are welcome to leave, of course.” She glanced back at the two men. “But we will all still be here.”

Ahlam sighed. She touched her right bicep before squeezing her arm. “How do you know that Jarl won’t keep us here? Make us fight the dragons?” She whispered. Ralof stepped around Kastus and opened a side door. He ushered them inside the small room.

“Ahlam, on my honor,” Ralof kneeled in front of her and placed a fist against his chest, “you may go back to Hammerfell. You may live your life by the sea, but help us with this last task. Stay until Riverwood is defended.” Ralof looked up, pleading with her.

Aela nodded. “We will support you no matter you decision.” She held onto Kastus’s arm. Ahlam looked to the two of them before looking down at Ralof. Aela felt her heat beat loudly. _Stay. By the Gods, stay_.

“Ahlam. Please.” Kastus’s voice cracked. Ahlam looked at him sharply. After a long pause, she barely nodded. Aela sighed in relief and Kastus chuckled from the nervous tension. Ralof rose and hugged her tightly.

“I better get dinner out of this.” Ahlam said in Ralof’s arms. The three others laughed. Aela hugged Ahlam.

“Thank you, Ahlam.” She nodded before hugging Kastus. She whispered something in his ear and he nodded against her. Aela smiled at them and noticed a few tears in Kastus’s eyes.

“We should check on Mathal.” Ahlam reminded them. Ralof and Ahlam led the way back to the throne room. Mathal was rising from his bow as they say him. He turned to them, distress in his eyes. Ahlam frowned and walked to him. Immediately, he held her arms.

“What is it?” He shook his head, remaining silent. Ahlam glanced back at the Jarl, who covered his face with his hand.

“Mathal,” Mathal dropped his hands from Ahlam and turned to Kastus, “if you would life, you may journey with us to Bleak Falls Barrow. We have an errand to run for Jarl Balgruuf.” Kastus suggested, but Mathal shook his head once more.

“I thank you, Kastus. But I must leave for Valenwood quickly. I will travel south to Riften before crossing the border. Are any of you headed in that direction?” He glanced at each of them quickly and warily, eyes settling on Ahlam for a little longer.

“I had plans to go to Riften, yes.” Ahlam affirmed her plans. He broke out into a smile. “But I didn’t have plans to go now. That would be in the future. Possibly years from now.” Mathal sighed, dejected. Ahlam shook her head and walked to the Jarl.

“Ahlam, what are you doing?” Ralof asked, trying to catch her wrist. She moved away from his grasp and did not answer. As she reached the Jarl, he straightened himself.

“My Jarl,” she bowed her head, “Helgen is under your control, yes?”

“No, it is not. It is under Jarl Siddgeir’s control in Falkreath. Why do you ask?” Ahlam sighed and held her bicep once more.

“A personal belonging of mine was taken. My father’s bangle. I was hoping that your men would be able to search the ruins, but it seems I will have to do it on my own. Thank you.” Ahlam bowed her head slightly and turned away from the Jarl.

“Shall we?” Ahlam said upon reaching the group. They had watched the whole conversation with tension, but relaxed upon walking out of Dragonsreach unmolested.

As the Whiterun guards closed the doors behind the group, a courier sprinted up the stairs. Aela and Kastus moved aside for him. He stopped in front of them, out of breath and sweaty. He was doubled over. Aela walked over to him sympathetically and placed a hand on his shoulder. His shirt was soaked with sweat.

“I’ve got–a–one letter for a–Ralof.” The courier looked at the strange group. Ralof stepped forward and held his hand out. Just as the courier handed him the letter, he was already off running down the steps once more. Ralof didn't even have time to hand him a few Septims for his trouble.

Aela frowned slightly and looked to Ralof. He tore the letter quickly and read. The seal was easy to recognize: a roaring bear against a blue background. He was being called off to war once again.

“What does it say?” Kastus asked, stepping forward. Ralof hurriedly tucked it into his bag.

“Ulfric needs me. I must go to Windhelm now. I could join you in a week’s time if you so desire. Otherwise, there is no way I will meet you for a long while.” Ralof looked worriedly between the group. Ahlam, Kastus, and Aela glanced at one another before shrugging.

“Then it’s decided.” Kastus decided for the group, “we will meet in Riverwood in a week’s time and from there, we shall go to Bleak Falls Barrow.” Ralof’s face broke into a grin and he hugged Kastus tightly.

“Oh thank you, Kastus.” He pulled back and looked at Ahlam and Aela equally, memorizing their faces. “I shall meet you with haste.” Giving his farewells—a kiss on the cheek to both women, another hug to Kastus, and a handshake to Mathal—Ralof rushed to the inn to pack. _He will soon be racing out of the city_. _And to his lover_. Aela thought quietly.

She clutched her chest. Ahlam placed her hand over hers and sent a small healing spell.

“You’ve gotten better.” Aela said quietly. Ahlam opened her eyes slowly and softly smiled.

“Thank you.” 

They walked down the winding steps of Dragonsreach into the Clouds District. Aela looked at the statue of Talos on the way down. Upon reaching the base of the steps, Ahlam walked towards it. The priest was gone.

Ahlam sighed and sat on the sill of the large shrine. She slowly untied her shoes. Aela glanced at Kastus, who frowned. Mathal watched from a distance. Ahlam touched the viper at Talos’s feet, who condemned Talos with both eyes and bared fangs.

“It’s strange how we have so many names for the gods.” Ahlam said so quietly, Aela nearly missed it. Ahlam gripped the top of the viper’s—Lorkhan’s—head, gripping inside his jaw, waiting to see if the sculpture would become flesh and bite down. “We call him Sep in Hammerfell; you call him Shor here and in High Rock it is…?”

“Sheor.” Kastus replied simply. Ahlam nodded and looked up to Talos.

“And here we have the God-King. Ysmir. Talos. Hjalti. Stormcrown. He is shrouded in even more mystery than Lorkhan.” She scoffed and stood up. Aela tensed, unsure if she was going to vandalize the statue of Talos in public.

Holding onto Talos’s arms which held his sword, Ahlam stepped onto Lorkhan’s head. Aela and Kastus froze.

“It’s almost as though if I touch him, he will come alive and speak to me.” Ahlam reached forward with her hand, fingers grazing the marble of his face. The others stared in awe at the strange atmosphere she created.

Suddenly, someone yelled, “you there!” Startled, Ahlam lost her footing. Mathal was quick on his feet and caught her. The four of them turned to see a haughty female Altmer storming towards them. A small female Breton followed behind.

“You! Are you a worshiper of the false-God, Talos?” Aela inhaled slowly and became very still. She felt Kastus’s gaze. Altmer threw Talos worshippers in jail and tortured them for an undisclosed amount of time. Many worshippers were never seen from again.

Ahlam, still in Mathal’s arms, blinked in confusion. “I—What? No. I worship the Yoku gods.” Mathal set her down slowly. Ahlam crossed her arms and glared at the Altmer. “And who are you to accuse me of worshipping Talos?”

“I am Kelria and it is my duty as a Highborn Elf to report you to the Thalmor Embassy if you are worshipping Talos.” The air grew tense. Ahlam clenched her fists and Aela saw Mathal reach for his shortsword. Then suddenly, Kelria was laughing. The Breton joined in.

Utterly confused, Ahlam looked to her companions. Aela shrugged and Kastus shook his head. Mathal stepped closer, hand still on his sword.

“Oh, forgive me. It’s so easy to pull that on strangers. My name is Kelria as I said, but I am not with the Thalmor. I frankly don’t care who you worship.” Ahlam nodded once, cautiously. Aela pursed her lips in thought. “This is Lielle,” she gestured to her spry companion. The Breton had bright pink short hair. She grinned and waved at them.

“Hi!” Aela and Kastus raised their hands awkwardly and waved back.

“We noticed you were coming from speaking with the Jarl.” Kelria pointed to Dragonsreach. Ahlam stepped in front of the others, arms crossed.

“What’s it to you?” Kelria shrugged. Her brown hair moved with her shoulders. Lielle glanced up nervously at her.

“Nothing. We would like to speak to the Jarl on personal matters and were hoping you could help us gain access.” Ahlam scoffed and began walking past them.

“No.” Kelria’s shoulders sagged. Lielle held her left shoulder in worry. Aela bit her lip and watched Ahlam.

“Tell the guards Kastus and company sent you. They may allow you entry.” Kastus held Kelria’s right shoulder. He patted it twice and began to walk forward.

“Thank you, kinsman!” Lielle called out. Aela smiled, thankful for Kastus’s kindness. Lielle looked at her as she walked past with Mathal. Aela barely noticed the girl’s stare before she was down the stairs, looking for Ahlam.

Ahlam waited for them by a stall sealing vegetables. She pushed off the wooden frame of the stall and walked to them. “They were an interesting pair.” Ahlam said drily. Aela couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m surprised she didn’t actually try and arrest you.” Ahlam shrugged.

“I’m sure she could’ve by citing that damn thing they call a peace treaty.” Mathal sighed and shook his head.

“The White-Gold Concordat will be the downfall of many.”

“But not my people.” Ahlam said proudly. Mathal only looked at her sadly.

“On a lighter note, as we have a week’s worth of freedom, where will you two be?” Kastus asked, standing in front of both Ahlam and Aela. Aela shrugged.

“I was going to head to the College of Winterhold and learn more of Restoration.” Kastus smiled at her which she returned. His worried green eyes turned to Ahlam.

“Ahlam?” His voice was a whisper.

“Riften. But I’ll stick with Mathal until he’s sick of me.” Mathal chuckled.

“I doubt that will happen.” Ahlam shrugged, but said nothing.

“And you’ll stay here in Jorrvaskr, Kastus?” Ahlam asked. He gave a singular nod. “I wish you luck. I hope they allow you to join.” Aela narrowed her eyes and puckered her lips, thinking. _What if_ …

“Ahlam, why don’t we go see ourselves?” Ahlam frowned in confusion. “Why don’t we go with Kastus and watch him become inducted?” Ahlam let a grin take over her face.

“I hate to be the sour one, but I will be heading out. I want to head towards Valenwood as quickly as I can.” Mathal leaned forward slightly. Ahlam gasped and whirled around.

“You aren’t going to wait for me?” Mathal shrugged.

“You can find me with your map. I won’t be that far. Farewell.” He bowed his head slightly at the three of them before walking towards the inn.

“Why does it seem like everyone hates me today?” Ahlam mumbled. Aela squeezed her shoulders.

“Not everyone. Just most people.” Kastus replied, causing Ahlam to groan. Aela laughed. “Now come on! You have to meet the Companions with me.”

“Nervous, Kastus?” Ahlam asked, sarcasm back in full. Kastus nervously grinned as he led the way.

“Very much so!”

They crossed the marketplace and back up the stairs to reach Jorrvaskr. The huge building loomed overhead. It was far more intimidating up close. Along the sides of the steps, banners flew in the wind as splotches of blood. The golden thread weaved in the banners caught the sun’s rays. The steps were even and large—better than the steps leading up to the Jarl’s palace. The doors loomed in front of them and Aela thought she could hear the Five Hundred Companions rowing and roaring above them. She shivered.

“Would you like to do the honors, Kastus?” Ahlam asked, gesturing to the doors. He straightened his back and placed both hands on the two doors. He pushed them open and they walked into the famed home of the Companions. 

They were greeting with blood flying. A male Dunmer and a female Nord were brawling. They circled the hearth. A few people pulled chairs and tables away to give them more room. The Dunmer danced around, light on his feet. The Nord was stockier and more sure of herself.

“Are those two at it again?” An older Nord called out, coming from the shadows. He leaned against the bannister that surrounded the main room. He was bald and and an ugly, jagged scar ran from his left eyebrow down his cheek, causing his left eye to be a silky white. Aela wondered who had healed him as they had done a horrible job.

“Strike when the shoulder turns. He’s giving you openings!” He shouted at the woman.

For a moment, Aela was frozen at the top of the steps. Ahlam held her hand and the cold fingers startled her. Ahlam dragged her to a place where they could watch the fight; Kastus led them to an open area on the right side of the room. They were isolated from the Companions, but it was easy to see the fight.

The woman punched the Dunmer across the jaw, staggering him for a moment. She took advantage of this and tried to punch at his side, but the elf was faster. He blocked her with his elbow before striking her in the stomach, causing her to double over.

“This should be good.” A huge, burly Nord chuckled, walking up from the stairs behind them. Ahlam didn’t turn her head, but Kastus jumped. He eyed them for a moment before landing against a pillar.

His eyes were as pale as the moons and seemed even whiter thanks to the decorative war paint around his eyes; a few of the lines of paint went past his brows while others ran down his cheek; all in all, it looked like two misshapen suns on each eye. His shoulder-length brown hair was loose and Aela saw a stray leaf caught in the locks. His beard was full and looked to be growing longer; Aela wondered if it could rival Kastus’s. He continued to smile at the brawlers.

“Just keep swinging!”

“Watch the eyes!” Shouts of encouragements surrounded the fighters. Aela suddenly missed the barracks, missed the war. She had found kind and good people in between the tents and cold winters they all laughed off. Now, most of them were dead or cripples, unable to work, unable to fight. Her heart felt cold and misplaced as pity filled her.

The Dunmer fell to the ground suddenly and Aela looked up in surprise. He wiped off the blood from his lip and grinned at the Nord. She offered her arm and pulled him up. The Companions cheered loudly for the winner and even the Dark Elf looked pleased. Slowly, the watchers and brawlers dispersed; some walked outside of the backdoor including the moon-eyed Nord. The brawlers walked downstairs arm-in-arm, eyeing the three strangers.

Eventually, the three of them were alone save for the older, bald Nord. He came walking to them. His boots were heavy against the stone floor; each footfall was a dull thud. His shoulders were perfectly square and his hands were clenched in fists. This man had bred war.

“Haven’t see you before. I’m watching you.” The man growled, hostile. Ahlam frowned and seemed to have a retort ready. Thankfully, Kastus cut her off.

“Master, do you mind telling me who the Companions are?” Aela was taken aback. Kastus knew who they were; he had wanted to nothing more than to come here. She clasped her hands in front of her and waited.

The Nord scoffed. “Ask any fool around here, and get a different answer. Mercenaries. Warriors of honor. Brothers and sisters of the blade. Drunken rabble. Take your pick. I've been here longer than most of them. Even I don't know sometimes. I just hope they don't kill each other.” He looked fondly towards the backdoor.

“I learned the ways of the blade in the Great War.” He reminisced and lowered his voice. “Nearly lost my life outside the Imperial City. I came home to Skyrim when it was all over. But I wasn't much good at anything other than fighting. Wandered around as a blade for hire. Was a damned good one, too. The money was good, and the women were good, and the drinks were good. But I was losing myself. My heart.” He grew silent for a moment, completely lost in his memories. The three of them waited patiently for him to continue.

“I was lucky the Companions found me. Now there's a reason to be fighting. The honor of my brothers and sisters is worth more than coin. Of course, the money is still good. And the drinks!" He laughed heartily and Aela wondered if a booming laugh was a requirement to join. She glanced at Ahlam. _No…no, she would hate it here._

“Do you have a side in the civil war, Master?” Aela asked. The Nord crossed his arms.

“None of our business. And stop calling me master. Name’s Skjor.” He shook his head. “There's no honor to be had in the squabbling of jarls."

“Who do I need to speak to if I wish to join?” Kastus asked. Skjor laughed loudly again. Ahlam shifted, slightly aggressive. Aela placed her hand on Ahlam’s shoulder and she inclined her head. Skjor glanced at them before turning his gaze to Kastus.

“So you think you have what it takes? Huh. Lucky for you, I'm not the one who makes that decision. Talk to Kodlak. Who knows, maybe he's in a generous mood. He’s downstairs.” He added after Kastus’s confused expression. He thanked Skjor and the two women followed Kastus closely down the steps. A few of the servants stopped sweeping to watch them. As they walked into the living quarters, other Companions stared at them as though they were outcasts.

“I don’t like this.” Ahlam muttered and took a step even closer to Kastus. Aela reached out to stop her from running into Kastus, but Ahlam took the spot of his shadow as though it were a second skin. “Are you sure you want to join them?”

Kastus nodded. “I have to.” Ahlam sighed but said nothing.

They wandered down the long hallway before seeing a larger room at the very end. Ahlam disappeared then reappeared a few times. Kastus clicked his tongue at her and Ahlam shook her head; Aela assumed it was because of Ahlam’s growing coin purse.

“I haven’t seen this many Septims since I was in a bank in the Imperial City. That was only a week ago, but…” Kastus rolled his eyes and Aela laughed. Ahlam stopped her mischief before they entered the room. A voice stopped them.

“But I still hear the call of the blood.” Ahlam grabbed Kastus by the hem of his shirt and held Aela back with her forearm. She placed a finger against her lips then her ear. They all listened and watched from the shadows.

The voice that had spoken sounded young and pleading. Aela looked through the slit in the door and saw an old Nord smiling kindly to a young man. The older man placed a hand lovingly on the youth’s head. The youth leaned into the embrace despite the table separating them.

 _We shouldn’t be here_. Aela wanted to drag her friends away. _This is a private moment; we need to leave._

“We all do.” The older man said, comfortingly. “It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome.” He sighed and the youth gripped the older Nord’s forearm tightly. A few strands of his brown hair fell into his face.

“You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily.”

“Leave that to me.” Moving quickly, Kastus stepped into the room. Ahlam reached out to grab him, but as the light touched him, she drew her arm back as though in pain. She remained in the shadow, back to the wall. Aela paused and glanced at both companions before stepping into the room with Kastus. She stayed close to the wall and watched Kastus approach the two figures.

“I presume you are Kodlak.” Kastus spoke matter-of-factly. “I’d like to join the Companions.” The old Nord, Kodlak, crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. His face grew solemn as he began to study Kastus. Worry gripped Aela. _What if he wasn’t accepted_?

“Would you now?” Kodlak muttered. His voice was still soft but no longer bore comfort. Even the youth beside him grew somber. Aela glanced at his features and wondered if she had seen him before. “Here, let me have a look at you.” Kodlak gazed at Kastus, tilted his head this way and that before slowly nodding. “Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.”

Immediately the younger Nord made a sound of dismay. Aela saw Kastus’s mouth slightly open in a quiet gasp. “Master, you're not truly considering accepting him?” It was then that Aela realized why the youth looked familiar. The intense moon-white eyes and the thick brows; the brown hair was a bit shorter and neater, but was still the same thickness; his lips were just as full and surrounded by a thick stubble.

 _Twins_?

“I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in hearts.” Vilkas bowed his head in forgiveness.

“Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider.” Kastus balled his hands into fists.

“Sometimes the famous come to us.” Kodlak turned to Kastus with a smile, easing his heart. “Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart.”

“And their arm.” Vilkas added quickly. Aela saw Kastus smile; Vilkas stared back intensely.

“Of course. How are you in a battle, boy?” Kastus jumped and looked away from Vilkas. _I know_ , _his eyes are enchanting_.

“One can always learn more.” Kastus said, held his left arm behind his back. Kodlak smiled slightly before nodding.

“That's the spirit. Vilkas, here, will get started on that.” Kodlak gestured to Vilkas. “Vilkas, take him out to the yard and see what he can do.”

“Aye.” Vilkas stood from his chair and stepped towards them. Kastus gulped. Vilkas towered over him in breadth and his gait was twice of Kastus’s own. Even Aela shook despite being taller than Kastus. This man was a monster in size.

“What of the girl, Kodlak?” Vilkas asked and held Aela’s eyes. No longer were his eyes enchanting but instead inquisitive. She wondered if he could see that day in the forest.

“Women, Vilkas. Another hides in the shadows.” Vilkas grew still and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply before opening his eyes.

“I’m surprised I did not sense her earlier. The desert betrays her.” Ahlam slithered from the darkness and entered the room. Her arms were already crossed over her chest and her eyes were narrow. Kodlak smiled kindly, but Vilkas barely spared a glance.

“How can what I have not seen in over a year betray me? What are you, a dog?” Ahlam scoffed, defensive. Vilkas and Kodlak grew still.

“Not a dog, no…” Vilkas mumbled. Kodlak stood up slowly. Immediately, Vilkas was at his side, helping his stand. Kodlak waved him off.

“The women, Vilkas, I do not believe wish to be Companions. You only have to test the boy. If you do not mind, I would like to rest for a few hours.” Vilkas bowed his head and shooed the three of them out of the room.

“Wait, I am a healer.” Aela insisted but Vilkas dragged her out of the room.

“Doesn’t matter. He wishes to sleep.” Aela pouted but consented to Vilkas’s wishes.

He led the three of them outside Jorrvaskr silently. Outside, alongside the ship was an extended roof. It brought shelter from the elements. Tables and chairs were set up underneath and a few bottles of mead were already on the table. Training dummies and archery targets were set up in the open area past the roof.

“May we eat?” Ahlam asked, as servants brought out food. Vilkas turned back with a frown before nodding slowly. Ahlam and Aela took a seat at one of the tables and began to hungrily eat—they hadn’t had time in the morning. Kastus watched them as he stepped into the sun. His stomach voiced its jealousy. Vilkas laughed, causing them to look at him in surprise.

“Hungry, huh? After I test your arm, you’re welcome to eat.”

“You’re awfully nice to a band of strangers.” Kastus pointed out, but Vilkas shrugged. He pulled off his linen grey shirt and threw it onto the ground away from them.

“Such is the way of the Companions. As long as you don’t harm us in anyway, or steal from us, we shall be kind to those in need.” Kastus glanced at Ahlam for a moment. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Kastus pulled off his own green tunic and undershirt and folded them neatly. He placed them in the chair next to Ahlam.

“So, how do I prove my arm to you?” Kastus asked, stepping in front of Vilkas and holding his sword at the ready.

“The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it.” Vilkas pulled out a steel sword, but it had a strange glow. Aela knew it was the famed Skyforge Steel of the Companions.

Ahlam paused mid bite—a mostly still bloody ribeye hovered on her fork. Aela pulled away from the lamb chops in front of her to watch the spar. Both men squared their shoulders and inhaled.

An hour passed. Vilkas complimented Kastus throughout and occasionally corrected him where he needed it. Aela noticed his stance grew surer and his strikes more true. Vilkas became free in the fight and laughed more often. He was handsome, Aela decided. He was handsome but too stern. If he smiled and laughed more often like this, he would be better.

As the fight drew to a close, the two women sat on the steps. Ahlam lay in Aela’s lap, eyes half-lidded. Aela played with her hair; it was soft despite its thickness. The sun’s rays however, made the black curls burn. Aela had to keep an ice spell in her fingers to avoid burning herself.

Vilkas glanced at their relaxed forms once too often, allowing Kastus to cheaply strike him. Somehow, Vilkas still managed to guard against him.

“We may be pretty, my lord, but do focus on Kastus.” Ahlam called out loudly, and Aela laughed. Vilkas, flushed from fighting, looked embarrassed.

“I am no lord, my lady.” Ahlam laughed loudly and again Kastus swung, this time too close to Vilkas’s neck.

“I am no lady, my lord.” Vilkas pulled away and sheathed his blade. Kastus, labored, clutched his knees. He breathed heavily and deeply. Aela noticed how his ruddy skin was even against his chest. _Did he often practice without a shirt_?

Kastus licked his lips before curling his lips inward from the taste of salt from his own sweat. Vilkas was also glowing from sparring, but his breathing was more controlled. His diaphragm moved no quicker than when he had first led them here. The light played in his hair, turning it into a light brown shade; Kastus’s hair was darker. His grey eyes kindly shone in the bright light seeing even more unreal and his voice was even sweeter.

“Well done. You might just make it. But until then, you're still just a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you to.” Kastus grinned at Vilkas and bowed his head. “Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are.” Vilkas winked at Kastus before leaving him his sword. He leaned down to retrieve his dusty shirt. As he rose, his eyes met the two women. He inclined his head and headed back inside.

“Congratulations, Kastus.” Ahlam sprung up and walked to her friend with a towel and a glass of water. “Aela, bring his shirt.” She called. Aela brought the folded green shirt and watched as Kastus greedily drank the water.

“I thank you both for staying with me.” He smiled graciously at them.

“Of course, Kastus.” Aela said. “We want to see you succeed.” Kastus smiled again before emptying the glass.

“Come. We should met Eorlund Gray-Mane.” Kastus dressed himself once more. The three of them walked around the side of Jorrvaskr before finding a set of stairs. Kastus looked back at them. Aela smiled encouragingly.

Before them was a huge forge, unlike anything Aela had ever seen. The fire was felt from the top step. An old man tinkered away and glanced up at hearing them approach. He frowned and set down the blade he was sharpening.

“What brings you three here?” Kastus stared dumbly, Ahlam remained silent, and Aela opened her mouth as though to answer but let the silence dragg on. “Are you a group of mutes? Out with it!” Kastus blinked and walked forward with Vilkas’s swords in his two hands.

“Vilkas sent me with his sword.” Eorlund smiled at the sword. It disappeared when he looked up.

“I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?” Kastus blinked. Aela wondered what gave it away. Couldn’t Kastus have just been another servant? Or was it the sweat and determination in his eyes?

“I'm just doing what I'm asked.”

“That attitude will get you far if you were some stuffy merchant or a Jarl's footstool. Around here, you'll want to live your own life. Remember, nobody rules anybody in the Companions.” Kastus shrank back from the insult.

“Someone has to be in charge, though.” Kastus pointed out. Eorlund shook his head. Ahlam held Aela’s hand once more and dragged her closer. She took to staring at the flames while Aela watched Kastus. His brows furrowed in inquisitiveness.

“Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's a sort of advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own.” Kastus nodded. He looked to Ahlam and Aela and gestured for them to leave.

“I have a favor to ask.” Eorlund spoke once more.

“What is it?” Kastus frowned, turning back to Eorlund. The old blacksmith looked around guilty for a moment.

“I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me.” Kastus nodded.

“I'm happy to lend a hand.” Eorlund smiled and handed him Aela’s shield.

“That's a good man.” Kastus turned back around and the two women followed him as a distinct shadow.

“Who is Aela?” Aela asked, curious about another person who shared her name. Her name was not uncommon, truth be told.

“You’ll see.” Kastus smiled easily. His smiles came more often now. They walked back into Jorrvaskr. Vilkas spoke sternly with a servant. Upon seeing them, he inclined his head. They headed down to the living quarters and wandered towards Kodlak’s room. _I hope he is doing better_. Aela prayed.

They turned down the left corridor and heard voices talking quietly, too quiet to make anything out. Kastus knocked and the voices became silent. The door opened slightly and a Nord woman greeted them. She had green warpaint across her face like some animal had attacked her.

“Aela the Huntress, this is yours.” Kastus presented the shield. Aela nodded and opened the door wider. She held the shield up towards the candles.

“Ah, good. I've been waiting for this. Wait...I remember you.” Aela the Huntress smiled, but it looked twisted on her face like her mouth didn’t curl up properly. “So the old man thinks you've got some heart, I guess."

“You know this one? I saw him training in the yard with Vilkas.” Skjor was in the room. His blind eye caught the light, and Aela balled her hands into fists because of the scar.

“Remember that giant, Skjor? Out by Pelagia Farm? That’s where I met him.” She turned to Kastus. “I heard you gave Vilkas quite a thrashing.” Kastus looked at her with surprise and Skjor laughed.

“Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that.” Aela the Huntress rolled her eyes.

“Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?” She asked Kastus honestly. He pursed his lips in thought. Aela raised an eyebrow and wondered what Kastus was thinking. Finally, he shrugged.

“I don't care for boasting.” Kastus decided. Aela the Huntress chuckled.

“Ah, a man of action. Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head.”

“Farkas!” Skjor yelled across the hall. The three of them jumped and heard heavy footfalls. Very quickly, a burly Nord was outside the door. The room was already cramped with five bodies and the height of the door seemed low for him.

 _That is definitely Vilkas’s twin_. He was bigger and had wild hair, but his eyes were the same moon-white and his mouth still had the same kindness.

“Did you call me?” His voice rumbled. Aela the Huntress rolled her eyes.

“Of course we did, icebrain. Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep.” She gestured to Kastus; Farkas looked down at him.

“New blood? Oh, I remember you. Hello, I’m Farkas. Come, follow me.” Kastus glanced back at Ahlam and Aela, who shrugged and made a confused face, respectively. The three of them followed Farkas down the long hallway back towards the entrance to the living quarters. Farkas spoke the whole way down the hall, easing the knots in each of their stomaches.

“Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they're good people. They challenge us to be our best. Nice to have a new face around. It gets boring here sometimes. I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life. The quarters are up here. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you’re tired. Tilma will keep the place clean; she always has.

“All right, so here you are.” Right in front of the door upstairs was an open hall of beds. Kastus stepped inside as Ahlam and Aela hovered outside. “Looks like the others are eager to meet you. Come to me or Aela if you're looking for work. Once you've made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas might have things for you to do. Good luck. Welcome to the Companions.”

And as simply as that, Kastus accomplished his goal. Ahlam smiled at him and Aela hugged him. “You did it, Kastus!” He hugged her back tightly before hugging Ahlam as well.

“Thank you for both being here.” He studied each of their faces for a moment before ducking into the room and introducing himself to the other Companions.

Athis and Njada Stonearm were the Dunmer and Nord, respectively, they saw fight earlier. They both felt themselves superior to Kastus. Ria smiled at him and told him she was no longer the newest member of the Companions. Torvar, the drunkard of the Companions, passed him a drink before hiccuping loudly in his ear.

Ahlam and Aela also introduced themselves as friend of Kastus. Athis and Njada regarded them both cooly. Ria was very happy to meet them. Torvar tried to flirt with Ahlam before she walked away. Aela laughed.

After the introductions had been made, Aela saw Vilkas walking towards them.

“Vilkas!” Kastus called. Vilkas smiled and walked to the threshold of the open area. He leaned against the doorframe.

“Hello, shield-brother. Is everything to your liking?” Kastus smiled at him.

“Yes, thank you! It’s more than I could’ve dreamed.” Vilkas placed his fist against his heart and bowed his head.

“I am glad, then.” He turned to Ahlam. “You are more than welcome to stay here. Both of you.” He glanced at Aela.

“Thank you, _my lord_.” Ahlam smirked, thinking she could illicit a response from him. Instead, he only stared. “Aela and I have a journey to make to opposite ends of Skyrim. We have to leave at first light, but we thank you for your hospitality.” Vilkas nodded slowly, arms still crossed.

Aela felt insignificant for some reason. Here was Ahlam being flirtatious to a man, Kastus had accomplished his life goal, and her fiancé was off waring. Somehow, something felt wrong. She couldn’t place it. Everything was in its right place and yet it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

“Aela, what do you say?” Kastus held her shoulders and grinned. His green eyes were wide with happiness. She blinked.

“What? I’m sorry; I must’ve dozed off.” Kastus laughed.

“They want us to dine with them for the evening. They’re going to have a huge feast in honor of my joining. You’ll stay, right? Ahlam already agreed!” Kastus spoke quickly. Aela glanced at Ahlam, who stared at her with intense golden eyes. If Vilkas was the moon, surely she was the sun.

Aela smiled at Kastus. “Of course I’ll stay. We’re here to support you.” Kastus nodded his thanks and began speaking to Ahlam in the same quickness. The woman responded with her honey-like speed and texture. Aela walked out of the living quarters and headed down the hall.

She couldn’t place why she walked down the hall. There was enough time for her to turn around, go somewhere else. But then, there she was in front of Kodlak’s double-doored room. She exhaled and knocked.

“Come in.” His soothing voice answered. She opened one of the doors.

“Forgive me, sir.” She bowed her head and her braid fell off her shoulder. Kodlak remained silent, waiting in his chair. “I…I do not know why I came here. I shall leave.” Aela drew back into the room.

“Wait.” Aela stopped and looked up. She felt his bones ache despite his distance. “I overheard you say to Vilkas that you could cure me.” She nodded once. He gestured her inside and she stepped into the room.

It was dark save for a few candles. The room was sparse. The bed took up most of the space and a closet was against the opposite side of the bed. Kodlak sat in the corner farthest corner with the least amount of light, clutching a book.

“What can you do for me?” Kodlak asked. Aela pursed her lips in thought.

“I would first have to see what ails you.”

“And if you cannot cure it?” Kodlak sharply asked and raised a brow. Aela felt surprised, but recovered gracefully.

“Then I will do all I can to soothe you.” Kodlak nodded to himself, lost in thought. Aela waited.

“Before I retire for the night, I would like you to see what you can do to soothe me.” Aela nodded. “Now then, there is something you must give your friend the thief.” Aela widened her eyes. _How did he_ … Kodlak laughed and tossed her a heavy gold box.

“What is this?” Aela slightly opened it.

“Don’t!” Kodlak’s sharp voice stopped her and the lid fell, making a dull thud against the metal. “Give it to her and tell her she will know when to open it. Now, go.” Kodlak dismissed her.

Aela found purpose in the idea of healing the Harbinger of the Companions. She walked up the stairs into the main room, hoping to find Ahlam. It was easy to find her. She was surrounded by Vilkas, Farkas, and the young Ria. Despite being the shortest, Ahlam mesmerized them with a tale of a sailor.

“…and saw that it was caused by an immense snake which was gliding towards us over the sand. So swiftly it came—” Aela cleared her throat, breaking the spell. Four pair of eyes looked up at her. Aela felt her stomach tighten and the air leave her. She concentrated on the golden eyes with a  white tattoo across the features.

“Ahlam, Kodlak has something for you.” Aela glanced at the Companions. This is not something for their eyes. Ahlam seemed to understand Aela’s desire before she voiced it.

“Of course. I shall finish my tale another time.” Farkas and Ria groaned in dismay and even Vilkas pouted in sadness.  Ahlam gripped Aela’s elbow tightly and dragged her down the steps towards the living quarters. No servants swept nearby and no one was near the open doors of the living space.

Aela pulled out the heavy golden box from her dress pocket. Ahlam’s eyes widened and she reached out for it.

“Kodlak told me to tell you that you would know when to open it.” Aela whispered. Ahlam trace the golden ridge along the box and nodded a few times, dazed. She blinked and placed it into her bag.

“Thank you, Aela. I don’t think you know what this means.” Aela shook her head. “I’ll tell you what I learn if this is what I think it is. Shall we go to the kitchens and help prepare for the feast?” Ahlam smiled warmly at her and Aela was not cruel enough to refuse.

In the kitchen, Aela was surprised to see Ahlam working so diligently and efficiently. Ahlam made a few Redguard dishes—flatbread, an incredibly spicy sauce called _harissa_ , lamb and cauliflower stew with harissa, and onion and chicken stew flavored with saffron, turmeric, lemons, and olives. She complained about the lack of certain ingredients and the lack of a hot enough stove. More than once, Aela caught her eating something roughly. She had never seen anyone work so quickly.

Aela, on the other hand, worked with the servants. She peeled and chopped a few vegetables for the stews and helped mince garlic, though mostly Ahlam needed it. Aela made sure no one burned or cut themselves. She helped one of the serving girls plate the large table.

An hour before dinner was to be severed, Farkas appeared at the door. The ceiling was thankfully high so he did not have to lean down. However, he looked awkward and nervous in the space. It was hot, full of steam, and many girls jumped away from him in fear. Ahlam, wiping her hands on the towel at her shoulder, came up to him. “Hello, Farkas. Do you need something?” _Always to the point_. Farkas grunted.

“Vilkas requires both of you.” He held Aela’s gaze, before looking back down at Ahlam. “Now.” He added as an afterthought. Ahlam shrugged and tossed her towel down.

“I’m done if you are.” Aela nodded, not wanting Vilkas to wait. They left the hot kitchens and were greeted with the cool dining room. The servants had pulled out another set of tables and chairs to seat everyone.

The two of them walked to the living quarters, following Farkas to his brother’s room. Vilkas was seated upon his bed, reading a small red book. The book appeared dwarfed in his left hand. He looked up when they entered. “Ah, there you are. Thank you, brother.” Farkas grunted and left them.

“My Lord Vilkas,” Ahlam half curtsied. “Did you need something?” Vilkas smiled slightly and closed his book. He placed it beside him on the bed before rising to meet their gaze.

“I wanted to thank you both personally for supporting Kastus as well as helping in the kitchens. You had no reason to do either.” Aela opened her mouth to protest, but Vilkas stopped her with a hand. “So, as a small thank you, I had two cloaks made for you. So you are always known to be friends with the Companions.”

Vilkas turned to his dresser and handed them each a parcel of brown paper. Ahlam carefully pulled the string off of the packaging as Aela tore through hers. The finest red wool fell at Aela’s feet. Aela gasped. Around the hem was a thick gold trim with a pattern of slanted lines. There was a thick embroidery on the center of the cloak of Wuuthrad, the battle-axe of Ysgramor, founder of the Companions.

“Vilkas…thank you.” Aela teared up, holding the cloth to her chest. He smiled. Ahlam cleared her throat and held the still unopened gift back to Vilkas.

“My lord, I am unclean to touch such a beautiful favor.” Vilkas raised his brow. “Let me wash and then I shall open your gift.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He bowed his head. “If you go past Aela’s bedchamber, you will come to the private baths. I will make sure you are not disturbed.” Ahlam thanked him and headed down the hallway, leaving her alone with Vilkas.

“She is not of our culture, but would she wear the Amulet?” Vilkas quietly asked, staring at the retreating figure. Aela’s blood ran cold.

“I do not know. You would have to ask her. Excuse me.” Aela said quickly and left. _How dare he? How dare he asks me whether she wishes to marry? And so soon! There is no courtship here, just mild flirting. Ralof asked Gilfre—all the way at Midwater Mill—before asking for my hand. He had barely spoken to me before. But this? This is not love._

Aela found herself outside of Jorrvaskr. The setting sun smiled at her, bathing everything orange and warm. _This is the closest I’ll ever be to Hammerfell_. She smiled to herself, recalling Ahlam’s fierceness and laugh. Aela thought of her wild, black hair and awful compulsion to steal.

Aela grew still. _Could I…could I be jealous? Am I in love with Ahlam?_

She thought of Ralof and how he made her feel complete. Everything made sense with him. She wanted to lay with him, bear his children, kiss him. Everything a wife should feel towards her husband. But to Ahlam? Aela felt the desire to hold her closely and never see her hurt. She felt a strange need to protect Ahlam. _Was that love_?

_Perhaps I am a mother before my time_ , Aela mused, laughing. _Oh the irony is not lost_ ; _I am a better mother than my own_.

_Long blonde braid, smiling_. _She holds her hands and kisses her scars_. _Worries and is strong_. _Patience. Practice. It will come with time. Baking bread and then she’s_ —

A singular raindrop tapped Aela on the shoulder. She peered up and saw dark clouds shifting in the sky. The sun sank lower and lower, waving its farewell. She bowed her head to the sun before stepping back into Jorrvaskr. The rain began as the door closed, angrily pelting the door, wanting to be let in.

“Are you okay?” A rough voice asked her. Aela looked up to her right and saw Farkas watching her curiously. “The storm sounds bad.” He explained. Aela nodded slowly and tried to smile.

“Yes, thank you Farkas. I got in just before it started raining.”

“You’re lucky.” He walked away without another word. Aela frowned and took one step towards him before hearing Kastus calling her. He stood at the top of the steps, grinning. She walked to him, a small smile on her face. She asked after his health.

“I am great! How are you? Are you and Ahlam ready to eat? I haven’t seen her. I hope the food’s good. I can’t believe I’m finally with the Companions. It seems like a dream.” Kastus spoke quickly and without pause.

“It’s not.” Aela stated sharply. She watched the giddiness disappear from Kastus’s eyes and mouth. His shoulders fell and his eyes darkened with worry. He reached out to touch her before drawing his hand back.

“Are you all right, Aela?” He whispered. Aela felt her teeth clamping down on nothing. She sighed and opened her mouth.

“I—yes, I’m fine. Why?” Kastus tilted his head.

“You seem…distracted.” He said vaguely. Aela shrugged.

“I am a little,” she admitted. “I’m worried I won’t see you or Ahlam in Riverwood.”

“We gave our word.” He reminded her gently. She shook her head.

“One’s word is not always indicative of what will happen.” Kastus nodded and gestured for her to sit at one of the open benches. He sat next to her. The rain hammered behind them. It was dim inside of Jorrvaskr and Kastus seemed even further away. Aela squinted in hopes he would be clearer.

“Why are you worried? If no one shows up, you’ll have the glory of recovering the Dragonstone all by yourself.” Aela held her head.

“I am not a good warrior.” Aela’s voice broke.

“Ralof will be there.” Kastus rubbed her back lovingly. She choked back a sob. “Aela?”

“No. It’s nothing.” She shook her head. Slowly, she lifted her head and smiled at Kastus. She felt tears hovering at the brim of her eyes, but willed them to disappear. She rose and Kastus’s hand fell from her back. He drew it back into his lap and watched her closely.

“We should both get ready for dinner.” Aela stated before leaving Kastus alone in the dark room. As she walked downstairs, she saw servants on the other side of the hall bringing in food.

As everything disappeared from view, Aela wanted to hide. She wanted to cry until she was asleep. She wanted time to return to nearly a fortnight ago when everything was simpler.

Aela didn’t remember turning the corner, but suddenly, Ahlam was in front of her. She was adjusting her loose hair around her shoulders. Ahlam turned and Aela took in the sight of the knee-length maroon dress. The sleeves were off the shoulders and the black corset made Ahlam appear more voluptuous. She wore simple leather boots and black hose from the Bannered Mare.

“Before you ask, no, I did not steal this. I bought this from Adrian.” Aela smiled slightly, forgetting her worries for a moment.

“I’m not Kastus; I wouldn’t have asked.” Ahlam shrugged. Aela saw a small birthmark on her left shoulder.

“You still worry about my habits. It’s easy to tell.” There was a beat of silence where Aela felt like she was choking. “I’m thinking no corset. It’s too hard to breathe.” Ahlam turned back to the mirror and slowly unlaced the whalebone around her middle. She sighed in relief once it was undone. Ahlam looked over her shoulder.

“Did you want to get ready for dinner? They should be serving soon.” Aela nodded and Ahlam led her to the private bathrooms.

As Ahlam left her in peace, Aela smelled jasmine, lilies, and some other flower. She hover in the door, wondering why Ahlam was so dressed. Had something happened to make her want to celebrate? _Oh, don’t be a fool, Aela. Of course she wants to celebrate! It’s for Kastus_.

Sighing, Aela made her way into the room and washed her face. She found some left over lavender essence which she applied at her neck, behind her ears, and at her wrists. Feeling somewhat refreshed, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Aela untied her braid and let her hair fall heavy. It ran down her back in loose tresses. Knowing that it was too informal to leave her hair complete down, Aela began to tie a braid around her head like a crown. When she finished, she walked out of the bathroom. She adjusted her plain blue dress—she always liked how simple it was.

Upstairs, the hearth glowed and the servants were pouring food and drink for everyone. There was a whole table dedicated to the food: a whole boar was roasted with garlic and onions; there was a lamb and beef; countless vegetables were charred; soups and stews that still sat in their pots were on the table as were the breads and cheeses. Mead, ale, and beer were aplenty. Aela saw a few kegs brought out.

The tables around the hearth made a large rectangle with one end missing. Kastus sat in the very centre with the seat to his right empty. His left had Ria. On the left table, Kodlak sat in the centre while Farkas was seated in the middle of the right table.

“I apologize.” Aela heard Ahlam as she walked up the steps. A few others were still milling about and thus left open chairs.  “I didn’t have enough time to make the couscous.” Ahlam bowed her head in front of the Companions. They stared at her in surprise. Vilkas was the first to laugh. Ria nervously chuckled and Farkas looked confused. Kodlak cracked a smile, but Aela the Huntress and Skior remained grim.

“Ahlam, this is more food than when I joined the Companions. And I’ve been here all my life!” Vilkas barked. Ahlam flushed. “It’s wonderful.” He amended. “Thank you.” She smiled at him and took the open seat next to Kastus.

Aela started for the seat next to Ahlam, but Vilkas beat her to it. Aela tried not to grimace. Farkas, on the adjacent table, waved for her. She walked to him and smiled.

“Hello, Farkas.”

“Hello, Aela.” Silence fell around them.

Aela watched all the Companions pour whatever they desired. Farkas only ate meat. Ahlam had two plates in front of her full to the brim with food. She had a huge grin as she ate. Kastus and Vilkas’s plates were mostly the food Ahlam had made. They both complimented her, from what Aela could tell by her gracious smiles and occasionally head shakes. 

“Ahlam.” Kodlak called from the opposing table. Aela looked in front of her to see him. “I have not tasted finer cooking despite my journeys to Hammerfell. You have a marvelous gift, my child.” Kodlak raised his glass. Immediately, Vilkas, Farkas, Aela, and Skjor rose with the others following behind.

“To our newest shield-brother Kastus!”

“To Kastus!” The Companions called and drank deeply from their tankards.

“And to his fine friends, Ahlam and Aela!” Kodlak proclaimed before drinking.

“To Ahlam and Aela!” The Companions rejoiced and sat down after drinking. Aela glanced at Ahlam; they both flushed from the attention. Ahlam raised her water glass and Aela raised her tankard in a silent toast to each other.

“Do you miss them?” Farkas asked quietly. The chatter of the room was loud, but Aela still heard his deep voice. She turned to him with a frown.

“What do you mean?” Farkas bit into the chicken Ahlam had prepared.

“You look at them as though they are already dead.” Aela looked towards her friends and realized she did look at them sharply.

“I look at them like that because I love them.” She reasoned with Farkas. He took a swig of his ale before continuing to devour his food. Aela cut a potato in half. It was unevenly peeled, one that she had done.

“You can love living things too.” Aela ate his words more carefully than the food in front of her. _I have to stop being so fearful_. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she missed the call for dessert. Farkas placed a large hand on her shoulder, startling her. She looked up at his towering form as he had stood up.

“Do you want anything sweet?” He asked kindly. Aela chuckled nervously and nodded.

“Thank you, Farkas.” He nodded.

Ahlam helped the servants bring out the desserts. There was iced cream, lemon cakes, rosenmunnar, and even apple pie. Last, Ahlam brought out her dessert. “It’s a simple treat that I hope you will enjoy. We call it baklava.” She set it in the centre of the table and soon, everyone had tried it. Vilkas had eaten two diamonds. As he was licking the honey off his fingers, Farkas turned to Aela.

“He has a sweet-tooth, my brother. He loves anything sweet.” Vilkas smiled at Ahlam, who was engaged in conversation with Kastus about her food. Aela wanted nothing more than to rip Ahlam away from his gaze. She exhaled slowly.

The meal progressed mostly in peace. A few of the drunk Companions had decided to brawl messily in the open area. Skjor barked at them to fight outside, which they complied with. Kodlak rose from his seat. Aela caught his eye; he nodded once to which she replied the same. He left for his room.

Vilkas rose from his own chair, holding Kastus around the center. Aela chuckled to herself—poor lad had too much drink. Ahlam followed them. Aela stood up as well.

“Are you heading back?” Farkas stood. “May I walk you downstairs?” Aela shook her head.

“Thank you, Farkas, but I can manage.” Aela left him dejected. The long hallway was eerie without any light or people; the silence was unnerving. Aela peaked her head into the long corridor of open beds. She saw many of them haphazardly in bed, snoring with their mouths opens.

She walked to Kastus and placed a hand on his head. He slept quietly, but as she drained some of alcohol out of him, his features slipped into peacefulness. She smiled before walking down the hall, hoping Kodlak was still awake.

“My lord, forgive me. You must give me some time.” _Ahlam_? Aela stopped and listened to where the voice came from.

“My lady, you have done nothing to warrant forgiveness.” Vilkas responded, muffled by the door. Aela snuck closer to Vilkas’s room and the voices grew louder. “I shall give you all the time you desire.”

Suddenly, the voices disappeared. Aela strained to hear anything beyond her heart in her ears. She heard nothing for a moment before hearing a dull thud and a laugh. Aela pulled away and entered the large space before Kodlak’s room. She closed the doors behind her and sank down against the wood.

_Bright smiles. A wedding wreath of the largest flowers. A large man—Vilkas?—carrying Ahlam through a threshold. Cheers and happiness. Night falls and they undress each other slowly, carefully. And then—_

Aela blinked the vision away. Kodlak’s door was slightly ajar. Aela stood up and walked inside. Kodlak rested in the bed, but as her shadow fell across him, he patted the bed beside him. Aela stared before cautiously sitting.

“My child, I am dying. I am old now and desire to be with the Stormcrown.” Aela nodded somberly. Many Nords wanted to go back Talos at the time of their death. “However, I am cursed.” At this, Aela leaned in. Curses were a force she had often dealt with at war. Sometimes jealously could poison a man despite being on the same side. They were often easy to reverse.

Somehow, she knew this would not be.

“What plagues you, Master?”

“The moon.” Kodlak croaked and opened his eyes. His eyes seemed to reflect an unnatural light. “My wolf’s blood howls.” Aela paled and drew away. He placed a hand on hers and looked at her imploringly.

“There is nothing you can do. But you told me you could soothe me.” Aela felt her blood freeze and her heart seize up. _No…he couldn’t be…_ “Tell me how you met Kastus and Ahlam.” Aela blinked. The black eyes of Kodlak twinkled with hope—the midnight sky with all the stars shined back at her. Aela slowly smiled and squeezed Kodlak’s hand.

“Well, it’s a funny story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 13,003


	10. Chapter X — Traveling to Riften [Ahlam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of misfits, love, a brothel, crying, love, and history. Good food too.

“Vilkas,” Ahlam parted from him, “where is the brothel?” His eyes darkened and fear kicked her in the stomach. She swallowed slowly.

“Oh, so you would rather fuck someone easy than start a relationship with someone?” Ahlam shook her head and reached out to touch him. He slapped her hands away. “Don’t touch me.” Ahlam bit her lip and nodded once. She turned on her heel and walked out of his room and out of Jorrvaskr.

Crippling guilt sang in her ears, blocking the sound of the wind. The blood red cloak of the Companions swirled around her like a warning flag. She clutched her heart in pain. The rain still painted the streets, swimming in between uneven stones in the street. Ahlam watched her leather shoes at each footfall.

She found shelter inside the inn. _Where is M’irhtba_? In the land of freezing, Ahlam found peace in her company. She couldn't find her as she swept over the mostly empty inn, but she did notice the bandit-looking bunch from the other day. There was the gigantic Nord, Bjorn. He smiled and waved at her. Ahlam paused for a moment before walking towards his table.

“Hello,” she said curtly. Bjorn smiled brightly.

“Hello there! We haven’t been introduced.” He stood up and held his hand out. “I’m Bjorn, Bjorn the Colossus.”

“Ahlam.” She shook his hand. It was calloused and hot to the touch. Bjorn continued to smile and gestured to the table.

“Sit with us! We always welcome company.” Ahlam bit her lip and noticed than the men were watching her, waiting. _I suppose I can delay for an hour_. She nodded and Bjorn pulled a chair up for her. He began talking as though she had never interrupted.

Ahlam studied the strange group. The Redguard— Urbdawash—had short hair and no piercings or tattoos; it was odd to see that. Ahlam desired to ask him, but she stopped herself. It was too personal. The Khaijit, Nakir, was lazily tracing ridges in the table with his nail. He listened to Bjorn with a bored expression.

Ahlam looked at the nervous Bosmer, who was tapping the table quickly with his finger. His skin shone like the green leaves of spring and his face was pointed. _How young is he_? She thought of Mathal’s golden-green eyes and how he carried himself with dignity.

Suddenly, the Bosmer turned to her. “Hi.” His voice cracked and the group burst into laughter. Bjorn  laughed the loudest and most physically—he banged his fist on the table before clutching his stomach. Urbdawash laughed as well, deep and rumbling. Nakir’s laugh sounded like hissing and even Yanniss, the Altmer, chuckled. Zanik—Ahlam remembered his name—turned a dark shade of green.

“Hello there. Do I make you nervous?” Ahlam made her voice as quiet as she could. He nodded slightly.

“Yes. I-I mean, n-no!” He shook his head, causing his friends to chuckle. Ahlam raised a brow and leaned forward. All at once, the men glanced down at her chest before looking away. She only slightly regretted uniting the corset. “It’s just that…you’re very beautiful.”

“Sure it isn’t the tits?” The group fell silent and glanced away. Ahlam pulled back. “That’s what I thought.” She shook her head and crossed her arms.

“Forgive us, Ahlam.” Yanniss, the Altmer, spoke. She looked up and noticed his sincere expression. “We are not often in the company of women. Or people. But Zanik’s words are true if he thinks you beautiful.” Ahlam shrugged.

“Then I thank you,” she nodded her head towards Zanik. He nodded back cautiously. Silence sat with them for a moment and Ahlam took the time to look at each of them. She settled her gaze on Bjorn and noticed a scar across his cheek close to his eye. She smiled slightly and leaned inwards. This time, all the eyes stayed on her face.

“I want each of you to tell me the story of a scar. Any scar.” She looked at each of them as she spoke. They looked at her and then each other in surprise before thinking and occasionally looking down on themselves. Ahlam waited patiently, crossing her legs.

Bjorn spoke first. “This one on my cheek is from my father. I had been gone from the farm that whole day, spending time with a girl.” He smiled and looked far away. Ahlam wanted to follow his gaze to the realm of memories. “When I came back, it was the a few hours until dawn. He threatened me when a knife and told me to never leave the farm without his permission again.” He crossed his arms and scoffed, shaking his head.

“His exact words were, “I swear by the Gods, Bjorn, if you ever leave this farm again to see a girl, I’ll feed your balls to the cows.” I was so angry, I punched him.” Ahlam widened her eyes before wincing in pain, feeling the pain of knuckles bruising and bleeding; she felt the pain of a broken jaw. She stole a glance at the others and noticed no one looked up. They all studied the table or their hands. _Had they heard this story before_? _Or is he omitting something for a stranger_?

“What happened after?” She whispered. Bjorn blinked and the spell of nostalgia was gone. He shrugged.

“The knife he threatened me made its way towards my eye instead of my balls; he only got my cheek.” Silence hung over the table like a mourning shroud. Bjorn took a hasty sip of mead. Urbdawash suddenly lifted his shirt. Ahlam turned to him in surprise. In the middle of his chest was an arrow wound.

“Bjorn was being an idiot. I saved him.” He said simply in his deep voice. It was rich and made her homesick. He let the material of the shirt fall back down. Bjorn guiltily looked at his friend.

“I _am_ stupid. I’m still sorry.” Urbdawash shrugged.

“What’s done is done. We must move on; you must move on.” Bjorn nodded, accepting his friends words. Ahlam looked at the Altmer, but it was Nakir who spoke. He cracked a smile, his golden eyes shined, and his whiskers twitched.

“Nakir was stealing from pretty girl, small girl.” He shook his head then. “Small, pretty girl was princess. Her guards came running after me and Nakir almost died. In the chase, Nakir squeezed through a small passageway that had broken metal.” His ears flattened and his eyes narrowed. “Stupid metal. Nakir’s back is now covered in small scars.” He seemed pleased with this story, however.

Ahlam rolled her eyes and wondered how much was an exaggeration. _Ahlam_! _You know better than to assume he’s lying_.

“I don’t have any battle scars.” Yanniss spoke quietly, staring deep into his tankard. Ahlam nodded. He looked more like a scholar than a warrior. Yanniss looked up. “Zanik, you’re last.” The Bosmer nodded and pulled down his sleeve, exposing his shoulder.

“A cat got me.” Nakir hissed. “No, not like that!” His hands were in front of him and he shook his head. “It was a house cat. I tried to feed it, but it scratched me.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Ahlam rested her elbows on the table and placed her head against her folded fingers. “No actual battle scar?” Zanik paused, thinking. He shook his head.

“Nothing that has an interesting story at least. Some fights, here and there.” Ahlam nodded and glanced at each of them.

“And what about you, Ahlam? Do you have any interesting stories?” Bjorn asked, sipping his mead. Ahlam remained still before standing up. She slowly unfastened the Companions cloak from her shoulders and turned around. She held the material against her chest. In the darkness of the inn, there were no other patrons save for the men behind her.

Very awkwardly, Ahlam pulled the dress down to her waist. She heard them gasp and she closed her eyes. Immediately, she felt the sharp pain of memory.

Her back was covered in whip marks. There was one large scar that ran from her left hip to her right shoulder blade. She had seen her back in mirrors, but even then, it was only portions of her back. She wondered how awful it looked in full.

Ahlam cleared her throat and pulled the dress back up. She let the cloak covered her front as she leaned in the chair. Each of the men looked pained. Bjorn clenched his fist and Urbdawash gritted his teeth. Zanik held his hand outstretched towards her and his eyes were wide with shock. Nakir’s eyes were downcast and his ears were folded. His tail slowly twitched. Yanniss stared deeply in his mug once again.

“I was hungry one day,” Ahlam began, “and there was this beautiful house. I knew they would have food thrown out. The young mistress of that house tried to spare me, but her father was a cruel, cruel man.” Ahlam shook her head. She saw his curling beard and his open mouth in a roar.

“I was thirteen,” she heard the whip. “And publicly whipped. A seldom occurrence in the south, but the further north you get in Hammerfell, the more common it is. I screamed and cried in Yoku. A language meant for the dead, he told me.” Ahlam scoffed. “He added another ten lashes to the hundred. All I wanted was some food.”

Ahlam shrugged. “As for the other scar, I was about seventeen. I saw a slaver attempting to kidnap a young girl. I was foolish then and didn’t know how to wield a sword. Not properly. But I couldn’t watch or imagine slavery befalling a young girl. So I fought him in the street.

“He cut me open and instead of letting me bleed to death, he took me as a slave. I was useless for those six months. The wound festered and I fell sick. The slaver grew tired of it and threw me out into a brothel in Taneth. Thankfully, the courtesans healed me and sent word to my uncle. Isran came soon after and then taught me how to use a sword.” Ahlam chuckled slightly.

The men at the table stared at her, not moving or drinking. They inhaled the story, but as Ahlam reclined in her seat, they all blinked and shook of the magic of storytelling.

“That was…” Yanniss started, trying to think of a word.

“Tragic.” Zanik filled, shaking his head.

“Unfortunate.” Nakir agreed.

“I was going to say heart-breaking.” Bjorn muttered. His voice lost its bright quality, become something even more masculine.

“It was necessary.” Ahlam said. They looked at her in surprise. “How else could I have become a better swordsman and a thief? Now, you’ll never see me snatch a coin purse.” She held one up and immediately the men searched themselves. She laughed and tossed it at Urbdawash. “Don’t keep it on your right side when sitting next to a stranger.” He nodded slowly.

Ahlam stood up from the seat and retied her cloak. “It had been a pleasure getting to know you. Or rather, your scars. Until next time, Bjorn, Urbdawash, Nakir, Zanik, Yanniss.” Ahlam nodded her head to each of them before smiling. “I hope to see you soon.” They nodded at her and Ahlam walked to the bar.

M’irhtba had appeared behind it as Ahlam told her tale. She cleaned the counters in the dimness and smiled as Ahlam approached. “Hello, pretty one. What can I do for you?” Ahlam sighed.

“I’m sure you get asked this a lot, but where’s your brothel?” M’irhtba laughed.

“Go out of the city, past the horsemaster. Down the road to your right should be the building. You’ll be able to tell with all the red lanterns and rose petals at the doorstep.” Ahlam inclined her head.

“I thank you, M’irhtba.” She smiled again and then hesitated. Ahlam paused as well.

“Are…are you okay, Ahlam?” Ahlam stared at the door, face half-covered in the darkness. 

“I don’t think so.” M’irhtba nodded once and let Ahlam walk out.

The darkness held her close as it always had. The cold bit her skin causing her to shiver. The walk was far, but Ahlam enjoyed the change of pace for a few days. Alone time was always important. _How strange_ , she thought. She had done all she could to escape Cyrodiil, escape her mother and escape marriage, and here she was, kissing strangers and visiting a brothel. She wanted to laugh. And cry.

She told herself that she was only heading to the brothel because she thought of Lila, the one who saved her. It wasn’t the only reason Ahlam ever found herself drawn to the women in silks, perfumed with secrets. They hide in plain sight, something Ahlam hadn’t be able to do. And they were great storytellers like her father; they could keep secrets.

Ahlam thought of Vilkas as the tired guard allowed her passage through the gate. He had confessed that he was interested; she had appreciated his frankness for so many boys—for that’s what they were—had shied away from her. He told her he would wait. _How long would that be_? She wondered.

Ahlam realized she was uncomfortable with the prospect of marriage. The cold wind bit into her face like a laugh, sounding like her mother. Ahlam shivered and cursed her stupidity for dressing in such thin clothes.

 _How can one person be willingly tied down for all eternity? What even_ is _love? How does one realize they are ready to marry?_ Ahlam stared down at the stones and grass but did not see them. _Maybe love isn’t real. Maybe we humans—and elves, and beastfolk—just require physical touch. …But that isn’t true either. Many just enjoy the physical company of others without a desire to copulate._

Ahlam placed a hand on her head in frustration. “Ugh, what is even the point! I don’t have anyone I love or care for that deeply!” The faces of Kastus and Aela came to mind. “Well…I do love them. Is it love?” She fell into silence, once more warring with herself. She walked up the steps of the brothel without even admiring the architecture.

Ahlam did notice all the rose petals at her feet. She knelt down and picked up a few, placing them in the pocket of her dress. She sighed and opened the door. There was an array of smells: fruits and perfume, opium, and sex. There were yellow, orange, and purple fabrics everywhere, women walked about in sheer clothes and others wore nothing. A few men lay about on couches at their leisure. A few of them grinned at Ahlam and gestured her to them. She bowed her head and smiled.

The madame of the whorehouse came to her in quiet grace. She was not very old, Ahlam noted. She was a short Imperial with tied back brown hair. Her eyes were a dark green and her lips were narrow and slightly parted. She was not very beautiful but had a charm about her. The madame inclined her head.

“Hello there, mistress. Is this the first time you’re dining with us?” Ahlam smiled, always in love with the language of whores—the prettiest words chosen for what is considered the ugliest thing.

“You can tell easily, but you aren’t very old. Tell me, how long have you been at this?” The madame just smiled. Ahlam laughed, and a few of the men turned, watchful.

“Any preference?” One of the men—a handsome Nord—came to her. He held his hand out and Ahlam unfastened her cloak.

She was taken aback by his beauty. He was tall—maybe even taller than Bjorn—with the darkest blue eyes Ahlam had ever seen. His lips were parted and inviting; his nose was straight and sharp and his high cheekbones gave him an otherworldly appearance.

His platinum blond hair sat loose at his neck, disheveled like he had just run his fingers through it. His beard was trimmed neatly however. Still, it was his bare chest that drew her gaze; she was more intrigued by the long scar that ran from his left collarbone down to his diaphragm.

Ahlam smiled kindly at him, narrowing her eyes demurely. He smiled back, just as languid. “None,” she answered the madame as she watched the Nord hang her cloak. She followed the movement of his bare chest and arms. He was rippling with muscle. She knew he had to know the extent of his beauty.

“Has our lovely war chief gotten your attention?” The madame quietly asked, knowing a deal was in the works. She came to stand near Ahlam as the Nord walked away.

“War chief?” Ahlam looked at the madame. She nodded solemnly as though it was a well guarded secret.

“Oh, indeed. He was the war chief of some bandit group. But they were all slaughtered by the Imperials. Except for Vercingetorix.” Ahlam widened her eyes with the complex name. “They raped him for days, but finally, they brought him here. I’ve been taking care of him since.”

Guilt rushed through Ahlam. She stole a glance back Vercingetorix, who was laying beside a male Redguard. They smoked hookah together. The Redguard had gold upon gold rings on his fingers; they gleamed against his black skin. He had a sheer cloth draped over his chest and Vercingetorix lay his head against the other man’s. _That is love_.

 _No. That is tragedy_.

“May I see all you have to offer first?” The madame nodded and began leading her deeper into the den of silks.

“I must tell you, it is free to look, but if you want to touch, we must first discuss prices.” The madame walked through a heavy curtain, not holding it back for Ahlam. She grimaced, and lunged for the heavy velvet, pushing it aside. She stepped into a magical place.

Ahlam saw women in heavy silks, women in nothing, women laughing and talking, eating, drinking, fucking. She saw men in similar states: they were on their knees, or heads thrown back; some of them were reading and talking quietly, while others danced. Many patrons walked about in delirious states. Ahlam reached for a peach that sat all alone on a plate. She bit into it and let the juices run down her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

The madame stopped towards the centre of the room. She eyed the peach in Ahlam’s hand but said nothing. “Most of our hosts are here with a few in the back. Of course, you saw a few outside as well. If you find someone to your taste, I’m in the front.” The madame bowed her head before gracefully walking away.

With that, Ahlam was left completely alone. No one cared to look at her or ask her if she wanted to spend the night. Her breath left her and fear trickled down her neck. Ahlam quickly walked towards the back of the room and sat on a cushioned bench. She pulled her knees to her chest and placed her head against her knees.

She felt the fabric against her skin and her dress. It was too much. _Breathe, Ahlam. The room isn’t that large_. She inhaled deeply and imagined that all the curtains were gone and she was in a singular room. _Confined_. _Caged_. _Slave_. A harder voice pressed.

A hand touched her and Ahlam’s eyes flew open. She jerked away instinctively and saw a pretty Redguard woman looking down at her in worry. She was covered in black silks similar to the style of the whores of Hammerfell. Ahlam reached for her and placed her hand very lightly on her hip. She ran her thumb along the fabric, remembering the sickness.

“Are you well, mistress?” The woman asked. _She was beautiful_ , Ahlam thought numbly. Her lips were painted red and her eyes were large and dark. Her hair was long and covered her back. Ahlam watched the back silk ripple under her touch. Nothing was more real than this.

“No.” Ahlam’s voice cracked. Tears welled in her eyes and suddenly, arms were around her.

“Come with me.” The woman lead her away, through another set of heavy curtains. Her bare feet padded against the stone floor. Her gold bangles sang as she pulled Ahlam with her. _I miss my father_.

The two women passed a few guards who stood guard. The strange courtesan stopped another girl and whispered something to her. Ahlam, stared at the walls and noticed the passageway was too simple for clients. _Where is she taking me_?

Her room, Ahlam found out quickly. It was a quicker passage with less enticement. “Sit,” the woman said. Ahlam sat gingerly on the bed as the woman closed the door. She began undressing by her dresser rapidly. Ahlam looked away in shame,

“Uh…I didn’t pay.” Ahlam said, stupidly, still reeling from her panic attack. The woman looked up as she pulled off her pants. She laughed and shook her head.

“I know. I was getting out of these because it was uncomfortable.” Naked, she began to open her dresser to find clothes. “My name is Niyya, but I go by Kishashi when I work.”

“Ahlam.” Niyya turned around and smiled before putting on a long tunic and loose breeches. She walked to the basin and began washing off her makeup. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. I should go.”

“Stay.” Niyya’s voice was sharp. Ahlam stopped and glanced at the woman, bent over the basin. “I wanna make sure you’re okay before you leave.” She explained softer. Ahlam nodded and sat more comfortably on the bed. It was a few more moments before Niyya dried her face and sat beside Ahlam on the bed.

“What’s troubling you, Ahlam?” Niyya asked. Ahlam noticed a speck of kohl on her cheek. Without thinking, Ahlam leaned forward and picked it off. Niyya closed her eyes.

“It’s not the most interesting story.” Ahlam insisted, noticing her shaking voice. Niyya smiled and held Ahlam’s hands.

“Try me.” Ahlam inhaled and nodded.

“My mother was forcing me to marry. I had no desire to, so I escaped her home in the Imperial City. I was making my way back to Rihad. I could’ve gone through Chorrol, but I wanted to see Skyrim. It was so close to my home but always covered in snow. It seemed so strange.” Ahlam laughed, thinking herself a fool; Niyya watched her interest.

“I made my way to a small village; I don’t even know what it was called. I slept outside, enjoying the open night, the stars. I heard the sound of the river, Niyya! Rihad is a port city and the sea sound different than Lake Rumare. I missed hearing waves without anyone’s voice.” Ahlam looked seriously at Niyya. “You should visit Rihad one day.”

“I would love to,” Niyya said sincerely and squeezed Ahlam’s hands.

“When I woke up…” Ahlam sighed and shook her head. “I was in a cart full of Stormcloaks and met two of my greatest friends. I am thankful I met them, but I wish it had been under better circumstances.” Niyya nodded and kissed Ahlam’s hands.

“At least you met them.” Ahlam nodded. The door opened and a familiar Nord peered inside.

“Hey, Niyya, are you done for the night?” He stopped upon seeing the two women sitting on the bed. He smirked and entered the room, closing the door behind him. “Hello, again.” Ahlam inclined her head in greeting.

“Hi there, Vercingetorix.” Niyya stifled laughter behind her hands. Vercingetorix rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He leaned against a pillar that separated Niyya’s bed from the other bed. Ahlam stared openly at the scar on his chest. Niyya stood and walked towards her bookshelf.

“She’s telling that story again? You can call me Rex.” Ahlam stole a glance at Niyya, who was currently flipping through different books.

“King?” His eyes gleamed and he raised a brow, surprised at her knowledge.

“Would you rather say Ver? It means superior.”

“I thought Cingeto would be the root you would want—warrior, but it comes from the word to tread.” He laughed suddenly.

“I’ll tell you my real name.” Ahlam waited. “It’s Einarr.” Ahlam knew it wasn’t his real name. _The way he said this, all of it, is too practiced_. But she didn’t mind playing the game for a few minutes longer.

“The lone rider.” He bowed his head, and a few strands of white-blond hair fell forward.

“At your service, mistress.” Niyya sat down on the bed once more, holding a book.

“Do you like to read?” Niyya asked and passed the book to Ahlam.

“I love to.” She grinned and opened the first few pages. She laughed upon seeing the title. Then she began to cry. Niyya and Einarr looked at her in surprise. The book fell at her feet as Ahlam began clutching her knees. Niyya immediately wrapped her arms around Ahlam’s shoulders while Einarr kneeled at her feet. “I want to see Baba.” Ahlam wailed. “He would know what to do.”

Ahlam sobbed and sobbed. The grief of losing her father welled back up again. She felt resentment towards her mother. Ahlam felt love for Kastus and Aela: pure and uncontainable—it was like being kissed by the Divines and just as painful.

She thought of Vilkas with his bright moon-eyes and soft lips; he had kissed her like she was made of glass and it was just as painful. She wondered what uncle was doing or where her sisters were. Was Aia happy with her husband? Where was Ashanta?

 _My Gods have forsaken me_ , Ahlam thought. The tears that poured like the rain was because of her lack of prayer and reverence. She knew that was the reason.

“Ahlam.” Einarr’s slow voice brought her out of the darkest corners of her mind. She peered down at him through her knees. Her hands covered her cheeks as though she could hide her tears. He smiled slightly at her—it was the realest thing she had seen since entering the brothel. “Are you expecting your moon cycle?”

“Einarr!” Niyya hit him on his bare shoulder. He jerked away in defense, laughing. “Don’t ask her that.”

“What? It was just a question.” Ahlam cracked a smile at their banter. “You look much better like that.”

“She looked beautiful all the time.” Niyya insisted, taking her hands again. Einarr raised a dark eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, I thought we all met today?”

“Einarr, I’ve known you for three years.” He whistled and looked towards the window.

“My, has that much time passed?” Niyya sighed. Ahlam laughed, washing away her pain. Niyya looked at her in surprise. Einarr turned his head with the hint of a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.” Ahlam explained in between giggles. “It’s just that…well, you remind me of my family.” She cleared her throat and leaned forward slightly. “We would travel in the desert. At night, we would sit and talk for hours. At least, the elders would; I would listen to them. They would tell wild stories or sometimes just laugh like that.” She smiled and shook her head.

“I’m glad you’re smiling.” Niyya said. Niyya curled her hands around Ahlam’s left bicep like a snake and placed her head against Ahlam’s shoulder. Ahlam leaned into her.

As though jealous, Einarr moved closer to Ahlam and threaded his left hand through her right. Ahlam tugged him and he stood up obediently. Not letting his hand go, she brought him to the bed. He let go of her hand for a moment, but as soon as he sat down, his hand held hers. He covered their joined hands with his right hand.

“Is…” Ahlam cleared her throat and looked at the joined hands. “Is it okay if we lay in this bed together?” She felt their gazes on her before meeting each other across the way.

“Of course. But you’ll have to get up.” Niyya said and unraveled herself from Ahlam. Ahlam stood up and stepped down from the step. Einarr still held her hand. Niyya pulled the covers back

“I think this is the first time I’ll be in your bed.” Einarr said. Niyya rolled her eyes and fluffed some of the pillows. She patted the middle of the bed and looked to Ahlam. Ahlam released Einarr’s hand and crawled to it. Ahlam liked that there was a curtain hanging from the two pillars at the foot of the bed to allow privacy.

Ahlam watched Einarr step on the platform before stepping on the level of the bed. He let the heavy curtain fall, drawing the bed into near darkness. Ahlam gasped, but Niyya was lighting candles. Another light source flickered and Ahlam saw Einarr holding Flames in his hand.

“You’re a mage?” Ahlam whispered. Niyya turned to Einarr in surprise, but he shrugged.

“I know a few spells.” Niyya rolled her eyes again.

“C’mon, wizard. Let’s head to bed.” Niyya crawled into bed with Ahlam and entwined her hand with Ahlam’s left. Einarr let the Flames die from his hand and instead sent an orb of light to hover at the ceiling. He sat on the bed and looked down at both of them.

“Praise be the gods.” He muttered. Niyya and Ahlam looked at each other before turning to Einarr. “Only the Divines could’ve blessed me with seeing two beautiful, strong women in one sitting.” Ahlam blushed from the praise. _He saw me cry and now calls me strong_. _Is this love_?

“Praise be the gods.” Niyya’s voice was quiet as she stared at the ceiling. Ahlam turned her head. “Only the Divines could’ve blessed me with meeting a stunning woman.”

“Hey! What about me?” Einarr asked, hurt.

“Oh, and still seeing this blundering oaf every day.” Einarr laughed, clearly used to her abuse. He lay down on Ahlam’s right side, propping himself on his elbow. Silence fell around them. Ahlam pulled the blanket further to her chest.

Einarr’s free hand found its way to her right hand. His fingers clutched the gaps between her digits and she held their hands against her stomach. His hands were calloused, but not like Bjorn’s or Kastus’s. There was work behind these hands but also care.

“Praise be the Divines.” Ahlam’s voice cracked. She cleared it. “Only the gods could’ve blessed me with life and meeting so many good people. Praise be to the two beloveds I have met today. May their lives always be full of joy and wonder.”

Ahlam closed her eyes and felt Einarr move closer to her. He pulled his hand away from hers and moved her hair out of her face. He curled his hand back into hers, resting them against her stomach. He lay down to sleep next to her.

Niyya, on the other hand, pulled Ahlam to lay sideways. Each of them fit into each other like puzzle pieces. Ahlam placed her arm around Niyya’s waist, but she brought it to under her breasts. Einarr, by contrast, did not touch Ahlam.

“Einarr…you can wrap your arm around me.” Ahlam whispered into Niyya’s hair. Happy, he spooned her and held both women. Niyya complained about not being able to breathe, where she was promptly let ago and almost fell off the bed. Ahlam laughed and made Einarr move towards the other end of the bed.

The three of them, finally comfortable and still, listened to the others’ heartbeats. They were not in sync nor would they ever be. Niyya’s was quick and fluttering; Ahlam’s heart was steady and loud; Einarr’s heart was quiet and slow. Curled within in each other, none of them knew that they reached cried themselves to sleep. Their own guilt and worries choked them to sleep.

—

Morning light filtered into the room. Ahlam’s left hand twitched. She barely opened her eyes; there was no one in front of her. But she felt the heat from the sun that warmed her back. She sighed and stretched towards it.

She felt a pair of legs and jerked away. She turned around to see Einarr on his back, arm across his eyes. He was breathing deeply, still asleep. She stared as his bare chest, watching his diaphragm and scar move. Looking at his square hands, short nails, and pink lips made her fall in love with the male physique once again. In that moment, she realized she had never been this close, this intimate, with a man before.

Ahlam’s eyes widened with the realization. She tried to quietly move away, but Einarr turned in his sleep. He blindly reached for her and pulled her to him. Her lips felt his beard and she was distinctly aware of how hot he was. His arm was tight around her and his breath tickled her neck. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was too tight. Finding it useless to escape, she tried to rested her head on his outstretched left arm.

Ahlam admired his features silently. He was incredibly attractive and no doubt stopped many in the streets. Her eyes ran down past his bearded jaw, past his Adam’s apple, and came to rest of his collarbone. The scar was deep and deliberate made. She gently traced it. _Who would’ve harmed you_?

The arm around her waist was gone and instead, a hand held Ahlam’s against his chest. She looked up to see Einarr’s dark blue eyes.

“Don’t trouble yourself.” His voice was hoarse with sleep. She wanted to show him her back and say, _we can be even_. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Do you not have a shift today?” He shook his head; his hair caught the light and it turning into a dazzling shade of white. _Had Niyya opened the curtain_?

She ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and they enjoyed the warmth of each other and the laziness of the bed. _Is this what love is_? Einarr opened his eyes and she stared into his dark blue eyes, terrified that the cosmos hid behind them. Very gently, he cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch. _Does he see me like glass as well_? “Is there anything you wish to do today, Ahlam?”

“Honestly I would like nothing better than to lay here with you all day.” She threw her arms around his neck and he held her close to him. He smelled of opium, aftershave that smelled of rum and citrus with a hidden scent of cinnamon, and above all, he smelled like the sea. She thought she could taste home.

“Why don’t you?” His voice was quiet against her temple. His white hair did not shield her from the sun; it only blinded her. She closed her eyes instead and willed herself to be strong. She had been strong for so long, one more day wouldn’t kill her.

“I have to travel to Riften today. A friend is waiting on me.” Ahlam sat up, away from Einarr. The cold immediately replaced his arms. _Damn you, Skyrim_. Einarr sat up with her and lazily threw an arm around her waist. He kissed her shoulder. Ahlam closed her eyes and willed herself to stay still. He kissed her neck, inching upwards and she inclined her head towards him. Her hair fell over his eyes, blinding him. It was a slow dance they practiced.

“Do you do this with everyone you bring to bed?” She whispered in the bright light. Her right hand tightened on the sheets by his leg as she arched her back. He bit her shoulder roughly then. She yelped in pain, but he held her neck in place.

“No,” he growled. Ahlam fell silent, leaving him to his ministrations. His fingers carded through the tips of her hair, reached her jaw, and he moved her chin to face him. She let her gaze trail over his body and his hand fell from her face. Einarr instead held her hand on the sheets and she felt her heart hammering in her throat. He looked starved as the light struck his eyes. _He_ is _starved_. She shuddered and he kissed her softly.

There was nothing exciting about this kiss. The lack of the familiar weight of someone cupping her face was new, as was his chapped lips, but it was the softest thing. It was a promise: _come back to me when the time is right_.

Ahlam pulled back, heavy-eyed. Einarr’s eyes remained closed for a moment longer. She admired his honey-colored eyelashes and the stray lock on his forehead. He opened his eyes and she lost her breath in his cool eyes. Time remained still as they stared. The particles in the air swam between them, but they noticed nothing outside of each other.

“I must leave,” Ahlam broke the silence. Einarr blinked and looked away. She sighed and stood. “Thank you. But…I cannot promise to return.” Einarr nodded slowly and wiped his eye.

“Don’t worry. Most don’t.” He looked up at her with the most beautiful smile. She had half a mind to stay here with him. _And do what? Be a whore_?

Einarr left her to change privately. She redressed in her Redguard clothes, feeling warmer. _Not as warm as when Einarr touches_ — _stop it_. Just then, he opened the door with a plate of meats, cheeses, bread.

“Isn’t much, but would you like to eat with me?” He asked quietly. Ahlam smiled.

“I would love that.” They sat on the floor and dined mostly in silence, staring at each other. They memorized the other in case…well, they each tried to not think of never seeing the other ever again.

Einarr walked her out of the room and back towards the entrance of the brothel. The front rooms were empty but still heavy with smoke and sex. Ahlam crossed her arms as she walked, deep in thought. Was this love? Had she truly found it in a whorehouse? Or was this his natural charm, ready in an instance?

Einarr tied her cloak quietly. It was strange seeing such a large man fiddle with delicate strings. He still hadn’t worn a shirt and the heat came off of him in waves. She leaned towards him for but a moment.

It was enough.

“Come back to me.” Those were binding words. She felt her rib snap as it joined with one of his. He smiled at her, softly for they shared a secret.

“I…I’ll try.”

“If you find one more beautiful, more willing than I, then go to them. If you find none my equal, come find me.” She leaned into him completely and he held her head. His heart hammered loudly against her ear and she thought it beat her name.

“Where will you be?” She whispered, eyes closed. He chuckled and it reverberated against his chest into her teeth.

“You will find me. You just broke one of my ribs, didn’t you?” Ahlam looked up at him in surprise and he smiled ever gently. He kissed her on the forehead. “Now go. Your friend awaits.” He led her to the door and she gave him a simple farewell. When she turned to look back, he was still standing in the doorway, waiting.

When Ahlam reached the horsemaster, the brothel was much smaller. The door was closed by the time she looked back, but she still felt Einarr’s beating heart against her crown. She saw two figures by the horses and quickened her pace to greet them.

Kastus and Aela were a wondrous sight to see. She grabbed Aela in a tight hug, surprising both her and Kastus. Ahlam hugged Kastus just as fiercely and he her.

“Where have you been, Ahlam?” He asked, worried. He held her shoulders and she was reminded of Niyya. _This is love_. Aela placed a hand on her arm and Ahlam leaned into her.

“I had to go to the brothel to sort out my mind.” Her companions froze, stunned. She shook her head. “I did not spend the night with anyone. I just talked to—a lovely person and I slept.” Kastus looked relieved, but Aela was not convinced.

“Nothing happened? Are you sure?” Aela asked, stepping towards her. Ahlam looked up at her in surprise. _She cannot know! No one can know._

“I did not dream. That happened. One of the girls, Niyya, held my hands. She listened to me and let me sleep in her bed. Then I came here.” Those were not lies. She would not lie to Aela. But she could omit Einarr. For some reason, she felt like Einarr needed to be a secret.

Aela nodded and they fell into silence. They glanced around them: the crossroads were further ahead; the horses pawed the ground or ate hay; the wind blew from the southeast, tugging Ahlam’s free hair in the wind. Aela had tied her hair into a thick braid that wrapped around her head. Kastus, on the other hand, had tied his hair in a loose bun.

“This is where we break apart.” Kastus muttered. Ahlam nodded and stole a glance at Aela. She bite her lip. Ahlam hugged Kastus and then Aela.

“We shall meet in Riverwood in a week’s time, yes?” Ahlam confirmed with the other two. They agreed. “And if one of us is delayed?”

“We will wait no more than two days.” Aela stated firmly.

Kastus raised a brow. “Planning on being late, Ahlam?” She grinned at him.

“You know it.” The wind picked up speed, biting them as it passed. Despite it, they didn't move and chosen instead to stare at one another.

“Strange how we would rather stand here and freeze to death than meet our destinies.” Aela commented lightly. Ahlam stared at the curve of her narrow lips and her golden hair. She looked at the freckles along her nose and searched her deep blue eyes. Ahlam turned her gaze to Kastus and studied his thick beard and his pulled back hair. She looked into his dark green eyes and smiled at the symbol of Stendarr on his cheek.

“It’s love.” Ahlam said simply. Feeling light, she walked towards the north. Aela frowned and stepped forward.

“Ahlam!” She turned around. “That’ll lead you to Dawnstar.”

“It’ll also lead me to Mathal. He’s housed a bit further north. He hasn’t moved since yesterday.” Ahlam turned back around and began to walk to where the Bosmer was.

It took some time before she reached a farm and came across a man on the road. His carriage was missing a wheel; the man angrily muttered to himself. What surprised Ahlam was how he was dressed: he wore the bright orange uniform of a jester and even the bells of his hat jingled as he moved about.

"Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!” Ahlam noticed the coffin in the carriage. She walked up to him, unnerved slightly by his voice. It sounded like he was putting on a show.

“Problem?” The jester turned around suddenly.

“Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead.” He gave a sharp laugh and Ahlam found herself smiling too. “I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But... aggh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?” Ahlam nodded. She found the jester’s eccentric nature more amusing than frightening.

“Is there some way I can help?” Immediately he began dancing and clapping. The bells jingled all at once and he was a blur of color. As he twirled around, he spoke to her.

“Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help! Go to the farm - the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me!” He stopped moving and fixated her with resentful eyes. “But he won't! He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!”

Ahlam raised her brow in surprise. _How much does the jester have, I wonder? Enough to pickpocket afterwards? …Gods be cruel, Ahlam. This poor man needs to rebury his mother. Take what coin he gives and leave._

“I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled at him and walked towards the farm. She spotted a familiar elf talking to what Ahlam presumed to be Loreius at the front of the house. Ahlam sighed and straightened her back. She ignored Mathal and spoke to the Imperial man.

“Excuse me, Loreius, I presume?” The bald, tanned man looked down at her. Mathal looked down at her in surprise.

“Yeah, I’m Vantus Loreius. Are you that jester’s whore or something?” Ahlam’s face flushed with rage. She had reached for a dagger that wasn’t at her side. _I aught to gut you_.

“Do not speak to her like that.” Mathal spoke sharply, catching Lorries off-guard.

“Sorry, Master Mathal. Beggin’ your pardon.” He bowed his head down and Mathal stared at him coolly. Ahlam raised a brow. _What did he do_?

“The, um, little man really needs your help. With his wagon?” Loreius looked up.

“That Cicero feller? Hmph. Tell me something I don't know. Crazy fool's already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?"

“So what’s the problem? I’m sure he can pay you.” She crossed her arms. Mathal hovered over her protectively.

"Pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head.” Loreius shook his head. “A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years. And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye. He could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. Ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that.”

Ahlam shook her head. “He’s a stranger who needs assistance. Please, do the right thing.”

“What?” Loreius’s voice was sharp. “And just who in Mara's name are you, anyway? Hmm? Come here, telling me my business. And for what? To help a…a…a fool!" The farmer yelled. Ahlam curled her hands into fists. Mathal sighed.

“You know you should help him.” He said, catching Ahlam and Loreius off guard. They looked at him. Loreius sighed and nodded.

"Look, I…I…You’re right. You're right. Feller might be nutters, might not. But fact is, he needs help. I turn him away, what kind of man am I, hmm?” He shook his head and smiled at Ahlam. “Look, um... Thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighbourly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, you be sure and tell him I'll be down to help soon."

“I will. Goodbye, Loreius.” Ahlam bowed her head and turned on her heel. She walked down the hill back to where Cicero awaited. Mathal grabbed her arm.

“No hello?” He said, a hint of laughter in his words.

“Hi.” She replied sharply before yanking her arm back. She felt cold from the touch. He ghosted her as a shadow as they made their way to Cicero. The jester paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to pet the horse. A guard patrolling the area glanced at the jester warily.

"Poor mother…Her new home seems so very far…” He mumbled to himself.

“Good news, Cicero. Loreius is going to help you!” Cicero gasped as Ahlam came into view. He spun around and frowned, confused.

“You… you did? He has?” A huge grin bloomed on Cicero’s face. He grabbed Ahlam and twirled her in his arms. They danced together. “Oh stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you!” Cicero twirled her straight into Mathal. He caught her with ease.

“Here, here. For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed! And thank you! Thank you again.” Cicero tossed Ahlam a bag of four hundred Septims. She stared wide-eyed and thanked him earnestly. _No reason to steal when he gives that much freely._

“Thank you, Cicero. We will be off now.” Mathal added and steered Ahlam by her shoulders southward towards Riften.

“I will wait for Loreius! Oh yes, mother and I will wait right here, right here until he fixes our wheel.” Cicero called after them. Mathal shook his head and dropped his hands from Ahlam’s shoulders. His hand brushed hers and she curled her fingers into a fist.

“You were going to give him up to the guard, weren’t you?” She looked ahead and heard Mathal sigh again.

“I would say sorry, but I think you would just punch me.” Ahlam nodded, still staring ahead.

“You’re right, I would.” They walked in silence for a few minutes before Ahlam spoke again. “Should we get a carriage?” Mathal shook his head.

“There is not much of a point. We would waste our money when it will only take two days to walk to Riften.” Ahlam nodded, trusting him. “There is no rush for us.” He smiled at her and she grew nervous. She couldn’t place why and remained silent.

They continued to walk southward.“You know,” Ahlam cleared her throat. “I never understand why Nords named everything with voices and throats.” Mathal laughed and she knew she had said something stupid. She felt her pride chipping away.

“You have heard about the Way of the Voice, yes?” Mathal asked her. She stared at him before slowly shaking his head. He gasped. “Oh. This is going to be a long conversation.”

“We’ve got time.” She shrugged.

“Yes, it seems we do. Let’s start with the dragons.” Mathal began talking of history. He drew her in with his soft voice. He spoke of the Dragon War in the Mythic Era—four eras ago, thousands and thousands of years ago. It was a distant time, full of only legends and stories.

Man came about late in the era, Mathal told her. During that time, Alduin, the greatest of all the dragons, claimed dominion over Mundus. The dragons underneath Alduin ruled over man in Atmora and then in Tamriel. Ahlam was surprised that dragons came from the northernmost region as man had come from Atmora as well, before colonizing Tamerial.

“Nords worshiped the dragons as gods and I think that is why Akatosh looks like a dragon.” Mathal commented. Ahlam nodded. He continued to explain that the Nords built temples to the dragon-gods. However, as time went on, the servants of the dragons, the Dragon Priests, became tyrannical. Man rebelled against the Dragon Priests and the rule of the dragons.

“The Dragons slaughtered Man. Thousands of them died. Eventually, one of the dragons had a vision. Kyne—as this is a Nordic story—came to the dragon and told him to give the Power of the Voice to Man.”

“So what exactly is the Voice?” Ahlam asked. Mathal laughed.

“I was getting there. I was setting up the story.” Ahlam laughed then and shook her head.

“Oh, I am sorry, oh great-storyteller.” He laughed at her and happiness settled around them. Mathal continued his story. The Voice, he explained was the magical power of the dragon language. The word for the dragon language was _thu’um_. Ahlam whispered the world and felt it tremble in her mouth. She touched her lips; the word was as familiar as her evening prayer.

Mathal watched her, intrigued and slightly nervous. She bade him to continue the story. He shrugged. “That dragon that was blessed taught Man the Voice. Man and a few dragons, who did not want to be ruled by Alduin, rebelled against the dragons. With their combined forces, the dragons lost the war. Alduin was banished and the Dragon Priests were overthrown. The remaining dragons were scattered and lost to time. Some say that at the end of the world, Alduin will rise back up and the old dragons will climb out of the earth. And the Dragon Priests will come back to heed their old masters.”

Ahlam frowned. “Satakal.” She whispered. The Worldskin or God of Everything, eats the world to begin a new world. She looked up to Mathal, who was lost in thought. “You like history, don’t you?” She asked. He turned to her in surprise, blushing a faint green before turning away.

“The Elders…they decided that I should work in the council. Help make laws and regulate meetings for the clans.” Mathal grew silent and Ahlam waited. “History, no, education, is my true passion. But no matter what I do, I can never reach my goal. Whatever I love slips from my hands.”

He spoke to the stone path at his feet. Ahlam glanced down before looking ahead. The sun was shining and she heard some birds chirping. It was a good day.

“Can you not chose to teach? It suits you. I haven’t been this engrossed in history since hearing _my_ elders tell stories.” She smiled cheerfully at him. Mathal smiled softly at her, but still seemed melancholic.

“Thank you, Ahlam.” But he said nothing more. Instead, he went back to his tale.

Alduin was called the World-Eater and three brave heroes had “shouted him from the world” while the other dragons were hunted and killed. “Thus, the Empires of Man were allowed to emerge, free from the terror of dragons.” Still, Ahlam felt a sense of foreboding for she had seen a dragon at Helgen. They had come back and that could mean nothing good.

“What happened to the dragon who taught man the Voice? The one blessed by Kyne?” Ahlam asked, worried. Somehow, she felt responsible for the mythical beast. _The dragon can’t wholly evil like other dragons_. _He helped rebel against his own kind_ , _even if a god did ask him_. Mathal shrugged and tucked a strand of his long brown hair behind his ear. His green eyes shined in the light.

“No one knows. Man might’ve killed him in their raids or the dragon might have fled. I presume you know Jurgen Windcaller?” Ahlam shook her head and he smiled softly at her. “Do you mind another history lesson?”

“Not at all.” Ahlam said excitedly. Mathal laughed before delving into another tale. He told her all he knew about Windcaller, how he was later called the Calm and was the most powerful Tongue of the First Era, possibly of all time. “In the First Era, in the year 416, the armies of the First Empire of the Nords suffered a defeat at the Red Mountain by Chimer and Dwemer. Windcaller would use the defeat as inspiration.”

“Interesting thing to use as inspiration.” Ahlam muttered and Mathal laughed. He told her that Windcaller founded the Way of the Voice, a philosophy that one should only use the Voice in “True Need.” Windcaller meditated for seven years; full of introspection and contemplation, he discovered that the gods were punishing the Nords and the dragons before them. They misused the Voice in an arrogant and blasphemous fashion. He was the first to understand that the Voice should be used for the worship of gods, not the glory of men.

Mathal spoke excitedly, moving his hands in wide patterns to explain they history. Ahlam was absorbed and didn’t notice the sky changing color into a deep golden—for her it had been eras of changing skies, changing lands. Time was infinite with him and his stories.

“It was a means of attaining enlightenment, not a means of attaining power, you see. So he chose silence instead of using the Voice and returned to the world. Seventeen other great Tongues challenged him to prove their point, but he swallowed the Shouts for three days until they were exhausted. They acknowledged his superior skill and wisdom; they travelled with him to the Throat of the World, where Windcaller set his new home.

“They devoted their time to the Way of the Voice to find peace and inner balance. The warriors who followed him became the monks called the Greybeards, who, to this day, still meditate and practice the Way of the Voice in the tallest mountains of Skyrim.” Mathal grew quiet having finished his lecture.

“So do the Greybeards take a vow of silence for the rest of their lives?” Ahlam questioned, but Mathal shook his head.

“No, they still speak but only in the rarest of occasions. Once, they announced the destiny of Tiber Septim, who, as you know, would later unite Tamriel in the Third Empire.” Ahlam nodded, following.

“So, only Nords can use the Voice?” Mathal chuckled; the fading light of the sun struck his features perfectly. Ahlam felt her stomach twist.

“No, anyone can. Rather, any Man can. But I am sure anyone could learn with great practice.” He became quiet. Ahlam noticed his desire for such a great power. She knew he would never obtain it. The gods always kept the greedy away from powerful things.

“I’m sure you can learn, Mathal.” She tucked her hands behind her back and glanced at him. He shook his head, staring down at his feet.

“The sad thing about historians is that we wish to change things, to be better people, but in reality, we are the average ones, destined to die without a story written about us.” He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. His features were dark with sadness.

“I don’t believe that. Maybe you are destined for greatness and you just haven’t had the right opportunity.” Mathal smiled softly at Ahlam.

“Out of the two of us, we both know which is destined for greatness.” Guilt filled her stomach.

They walked in silence for a time until they came near a giant’s camp. Ahlam pulled out her map and saw the new label: Guldun Rock. Two giants paced around a large fire, large enough for Ahlam and Mathal to feel the heat from meters away. A mammoth glanced at them for a moment before nuzzling close to the giant.

“We shall rest here for the night. Ivarstead is a few hours from here and we can resupply anything we need from there.” Ahlam glanced worriedly at the beasts.

“How far?” She hadn’t heard him clearly for fear gripped her. She measured the club in the giant’s head and wondered if anything of her would remain should the giant hit her. She shivered and Mathal placed a hand on her shoulder.

“A few hours. I do not want to get there in the middle of the night and get a few hours of sleep if we leave at dawn.” Ahlam groaned. He laughed. Mathal led her deeper into the nearby forest. The giants' campfire glimmered through the trees.

“Must we leave at dawn?” Mathal smiled at his hands, working on Ahlam’s nearly perched tent. She tossed the bedroll to him; he caught it easily and laid it out in the tent. She tried not to stare at sliver of dark skin as his shirt came up. As he returned on his haunches to admire his handiwork, Ahlam took in the sky. It was not as late as Mathal claimed. "Did you wish to rest now just so you could be outside?" Ahlam accused.

Mathal looked up, sheepishly grinning. Ahlam rolled her eyes. “Guilty.” He said. She muttered a curse about Bosmeri culture. “I am right here, you know.” Mathal raised a brow as he began to set up his own bedroll under the stars.

Ahlam shrugged and pulled out her bow from her back. She pulled off the Redguard vest and overshirt, keenly aware of Mathal’s eyes. “It’s easier to hunt in a simple shirt,” she explained without turning. She placed her bag on back and listened to Mathal resume shuffling around for his things. “I assume your animal friends won’t sacrifice themselves for us?”

Ahlam turned around to see Mathal staring at her with a darkened expression. He scoffed and looked away in digust.

“Didn’t you know I only eat people?” Ahlam rolled her eyes again. She could almost hear the sarcasm underneath…was it sarcasm?

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Ahlam mocked, walking closer to him. “I know that Bosmers are cannibals, but they still eat what the forest gives them.” He narrowed his eyes and lay on his bedroll.

“How wise of you, Ahlam. Go, fetch some firewood and a few rabbits if you can.” Ahlam stared down at his resting form and felt insulted. _I have to do the work while you just rest_? She cleared her throat and ran deeper into the forest.

The woods sang with life—nightbirds called to each other and crickets began to tune their instruments. A stream sang in the distance, enticing Ahlam to wander. The wind blew cooly and the leaves overhead rustled in their own tongue. Ahlam inhaled.

 _This_ … _this makes sense_.

She opened her eyes and began to look for dry, fallen wood. She placed the bundles in her bag; some of the branches poked out. Ahlam wandered further into the woods, hoping for a rabbit or fox. Instead, she found the stream she had heard earlier. _Thank you_ , _Tall Papa_. Ahlam refilled the waterskin and drank from the stream itself.

As Ahlam pulled back from the river, she saw a doe staring right back at her. A buck wandered into view, standing in front of the doe. He snorted and Ahlam watched the air from his nostrils fade into the dying light. Ahlam reached for her bow slowly. The buck stared at her with interest, ear twitching.

_Ius, I pray that you give me and my companion, Mathal, a full dinner from either these animals or anything better you have. Guide my arrow true._

The arrow pierced the buck in between the eyes and the doe sprinted away. Ahlam ran to the fallen deer and placed her hand over its mouth. “Do not be scared, gracious one. You have served your purpose in life and death. Go now, to your afterlife full of wealth.” She cupped the breath of the animal and slowly released it into the soil.

Ahlam slit its throat, letting the blood drain at her feet away from the water. She dug for twine in her bag and tied the animal’s legs together before slinging it across her back. She groaned slightly under the weight, but made her way back to the camp. A fire was already lit and warm. Mathal lounged on his bedroll, reading.

Ahlam felt fury bubbling in her mouth as laughter. Instead, she clutched the buck tighter and walked into the light. Mathal glanced up and then stood in surprise.

“Where did you find—”

“The forest has many bounties. Help me skin it?” He nodded and they worked together. By the time they had skinned the beautiful deer, Mathal insisted she keep the hide. Mathal kept the antlers at Ahlam’s insisting—“you could make a necklace or a crown”—and together, they began to roast the meat.

It would take some time, but Ahlam didn’t mind. She dragged Mathal to a tall tree with large leaves. She climbed onto his shoulders and pulled off leaves, letting them fall to his feet. He felt her bare feet tightly. “Won’t be as good as banana leaves, but it’s the best I can do.” He grinned up at her.

Ahlam roasted some of the vegetables and herbs she found from Whiterun and the forest. “Do you wish to go to the stream and wash?” Ahlam asked, eyeing the bloodied front of Mathal. He grimaced upon looking down.

“That would be wonderful, yes.” Ahlam nodded.

“Into the forest southward. About a quarter of a mile off. Don’t get lost in the darkness.” Ahlam warned. Mathal shrugged and summoned a ball of light from his hand. Ahlam thought of Einarr’s hand holding hers. She swallowed.

“Are you all right, _latta_?” Mathal asked, stepping closer. The light hovered near him. His features were too much with the overhead light. She nodded.

“Yes. Now go wash!” She lightly pushed him into the forest. The night and fire kept her company. As Mathal returned with clean hands and less blood on his soaked tunic, Ahlam passed the duty of watching the food to him.

Mathal passed the light to her. “It will stay for an hour. Be quick.” Ahlam nodded and sprinted as quickly as she could to the stream. She washed her hands and saw the darkened patch of grass off where she had killed the deer. She smiled slightly, thankful for the meal.

 _Let the gods wake me early so I may bathe_. Ahlam ran back to the camp just as the light expired. Mathal smiled and handed her a large leaf, full of venison and vegetables. Together, they enjoyed their meal. They laughed, telling each other stories of their youths and rumors of the strange land of Skyrim before they had come. Mathal told Ahlam stories he had read in tomes while Ahlam told him folk stories she knew growing up.

As midnight neared, Ahlam yawned. Mathal, without even looking, sent a fire spell towards the dimming fire. “I will take the first watch. Sleep.” He commanded and gestured to her tent. She thought about fighting him for first watch, but as she yawned once more, realized it was too dangerous.

“We could be in Ivarstead now, asleep in a real bed.” Ahlam accused as she stood. Mathal shrugged and turned to look at the fire.

“It is better to sleep outside.” Mathal said simply.

“Oh, yes, much better. Much easier to get eaten alive by dragons. Way safer than being in a town.” Ahlam sarcastically bit. She was too exhausted to change clothes. Mathal only smiled. She glanced out of the tent and watched Mathal resume reading on his bedroll. He began to hum a tune, soothing her even further.

“Make sure…” Ahlam yawned breaking her sentence in half, “we don’t die. Nothing attack us…” Ahlam became more delirious and slurred. Mathal chuckled, breaking his tune. He didn’t get a chance to start again before she was fast asleep, belly full of good food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 11,081


	11. Chapter XI — Whiterun [Kastus]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kastus takes some time to be helpful and reflective. He grieves like he loves—fully.

Kastus found himself standing in the hall, clutching the wall as sweat dripped from his head. His breath was ragged. He heard the door open from upstairs and he struggled to turn his head. Suddenly, Vilkas’s hand touched his back, steadying him.

"Shield-brother, what is it?” He asked quietly. Kastus looked up at him and grimaced. Vilkas cursed and with a swift movement, picked up Kastus. “I told Skjor that was shitty ale.” Kastus tried to laugh, but only burped. Vilkas eyed him worriedly, but no vomit spilled forth.

Vilkas carried him to the bathroom and set him down in front of a bucket. Kastus frowned. “You might wanna bend over.” If Kastus had enough willpower, he would’ve flushed. Instead, as Kastus bent over, he threw up into the wood.

“There you go, that’s it.” Vilkas rubbed his back. “Quite a few others fell ill from that damned drink. Ria threw up just as you are now.” Kastus tried to listen to Vilkas’s soft voice, but only felt the heat escaping his throat. Vilkas held his hair back and rubbed his back in soothing motions. Eventually, nothing else was coming out.

Kastus drew back and wiped the vomit from his beard. Vilkas still held his hair. They heard footsteps at the entrance of the open room. Farkas stood at the threshold and blinked.

“It was the ale,” Farkas said simply. Kastus cracked a weak smile. “I’ll get you something to eat.” Farkas immediately left the two of them.

“Come. I’ll help you get cleaned up.” Vilkas said and held Kastus’s waist.

“Vilkas, thank you, but I don’t need…” Kastus shook slightly in Vilkas’s arms, but the older Nord paid him no heed.

“You are ill and we take care of our kind. Allow me, please.” Vilkas set him down on a small bench and ran a warm, dampened towel over Kastus’s mouth. He passed over his face, his eyes. Blinded by the thick material, Kastus enjoyed the warmth of the dampness against his skin. The water smelled sweet compared to the taste and scent of vomit in his house.

Vilkas drew away, and Kastus slowly opened his eyes. Vilkas’s hand hovered close to Kastus’s face in an almost gesture. Kastus barely realized he moved his head towards Vilkas when Farkas entered the bathroom once more, tray in hand. The two of them moved away from each other.

“This will aid you.” Farkas handed Kastus the glass. He thanked the older Nord and sipped the sweet tomato juice. He grimaced in reflex. Vilkas laughed.

“Come now, Kastus. It isn’t that bad. Even if you do throw up again, at least it is sweet.” Kastus shook his head in slight annoyance, but was able to keep his stomach lining in tact.

“You should rest in you room. I’ll take you.” Farkas offered kindly. Kastus shook his head wildly in a panic and Vilkas immediately placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Kastus, please. You should rest and eat something.” Kastus inhaled shakily, smelling a dark yet clean musk. He looked into Vilkas’s smiling eyes. He felt drawn to rest of Vilkas’s shoulder but resisted moving. Kastus cleared his throat.

“Thank you. Perhaps some food is in order. And not ale.” Kastus moved to stand, but Vilkas’s arm was already around him. He faintly recalled Ahlam doing the same to him a few nights ago. Farkas nodded and exited the bathroom, leaving Vilkas and Kastus alone once more.

The heat from his skin seemed unbearable especially against Vilkas’s hot hand. Kastus’s head lolled onto Vilkas’s chest; Vilkas’s hand tightened around his waist. Kastus was hyperaware of Vilkas—how he smelled darkly like the night; how even his breathing was despite how quickly his heartbeat hammered in his chest; how protectively and warmly he was held. Vilkas barely moved a thumb across the bare skin of Kastus’s waist. At some point, his shirt had ridden up. Kastus exhaled and drew away from Vilkas.

He stared into the moon-white eyes and the dangerous tilt of the head. Kastus’s gaze darted from each eye to his lips. He shook his head suddenly and drew another step away.

“I’m sorry,” Kastus whispered, staring at the glass full of tomato juice. “I can’t.” Vilkas sighed and ran a hand through his neat curls.

“I understand. I did not mean…Forgive me.” Kastus nodded once.

“You are forgiven.” And with that, Kastus walked out of the bathroom, physically stronger and yet emotionally crippled.

For a few hours, he avoided Vilkas. He washed and braided his hair. He combed through his beard and cleaned off the symbol on Stendarr from his cheek; joining the Companions warranted change and newness.

Kastus ate his breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon with a few of the others. They laughed merrily, but Kastus did not notice anything. He did not taste the butter on the golden-brown bread; he did not taste the salty egg with black pepper on top nor did he even taste the smoked cheese. Instead, everything was full of the memory of closeness and the physical longing Kastus had.

Kastus pursued the few bookcases, hoping to catch something of dragon lore, after breakfast. He saw Vilkas out of the corner of his eye talking with Ria. Kastus quietly wandered down to the living quarters. He still felt his gaze on his neck.

He found Skjor pouring over some texts. Upon seeing Kastus, Skjor scoffed. “Doesn’t Vilkas have a job for you?” His heart burned in his chest.

“Does he?” Kastus noticed his voice shake. He curled his hands into fists. Skjor rolled his eyes and turned back to his notes.

“Yes. Now go.” With that, avoiding Vilkas came to an end. Kastus dragged his feet down the hall as he thought. _It is too soon_. _Especially after_ his _death_. Suddenly, Kastus blinked and found himself in the main room. A few of the servants bowed their heads and smiled. Even a few Companions placed their fist on their chest in greeting. Happiness swelled in Kastus’s breast and for a moment, he felt like he belonged. It was a feeling he thought he had lost.

With the newfound happiness, he strode to Vilkas, who spoke with his brother. Vilkas, hand on Farkas’s shoulder, leaned against one of the pillars. His brows were furrowed as he takes emphatically, but quietly to his much taller brother. Vilkas shook his head and a few loose strands of his hair covered his features. He pushed them aside and ran a hand through his hair, disturbing it even further.

Kastus snorted and the twins turned. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t hear anything.” He explained with a hand raised. Vilkas nodded slowly and Kastus took it as a sign to come closer. “Skjor said you had an assignment for me, Vilkas.” Vilkas frowned for a moment and looked to Farkas.

“The priest, wasn’t it?” Farkas mumbled. Vilkas snapped his fingers in realization and nodded.

“Yes! Thank you, brother. One of the acolytes at the Temple of Kynareth was kidnapped. Don’t worry, Danica is still safe.” Vilkas added upon seeing Kastus’s worried expression. Kastus sighed in relief.

“Do you know who it is?” Kastus asked. _What would anyone want to do with a priest_? Still, as a Companion, he had an obligation to protect any civilian. 

Vilkas frowned before shrugging. “I am not sure whom. I know they are being held just outside the city in the abandoned Western Watchtower. Be careful and don’t get too close to Fort Greymoor—bandits have that place overrun.” Kastus frowned and opened his mouth to question the presents of bandits so close to the city. “We have plans to take care of them soon. We just haven’t had the time.” Vilkas expained.

Kastus closed his mouth and, frown still present, nodded. “Seems I should set off then.” Kastus remained rooted to the spot. Vilkas looked to the doors.

“You could wait until night falls. Then, they will be caught unaware. But it is up to you.” Kastus pursued his lips in thought.

“Will I travel alone or will I have someone with me?” Farkas laughed, causing Kastus to jump.

“First time is always alone, shield-brother,” Vilkas said with a smile. “You must prove yourself.” Kastus’s heart twisted in a sharp pain. He was unease at the idea of going into an abandoned watchtower alone. _No doubt the place is crawling with bandits_. _I was not prepared for this_. Kastus exhaled and thought of his father passing his hand on his head. _For you_ , _Father_.

Kastus walked through the main doors of Jorvaskrr. The breeze was chilly and Kastus drew the cloak tighter around him. He walked by the Temple of Kynareth, intent on stopping there, but saw a set of stairs leading somewhere underground. Curious, he walked down the steps. A set of double wooden doors greet him. He pushed them open.

He stepped into a chapel. Lavender grew in pots. A few benches lay about for prayer and off on the side was a shrine of Arkay. Kastus bowed his head slightly.

An old priest rested on one of the benches, head bowed in prayer. Kastus sat next to him as quietly as he could; the priest did not stir. Kastus bowed his head and closed his eyes.

“Blessed Arkay, hear me. Without you, there is neither breath nor beginning, nor can any man live, love, or learn without the spark of your spirit. Lord of the Wheel of Life grant me another day to live. I require your blessing today and for many days onward—grant me this, my Lord. I shall be your humble servant.” Kastus whispered.

“Yet you worship Stendarr more fervently.” The priest beside him spoke. Kastus jumped.

“Pardon?” The priest gestured to him and Kastus looked down. Indeed, his amulet of Stendarr had slipped out from his shirt. “Oh. …Yes, I worship Stendarr more than the others. But Arkay is God of Life. I cannot neglect him.” The priest smiled slightly. Mischief swam in his grey eyes. He was bald, but his grey beard was great. Kastus wondered how long the man had before he met his master.

“I spend so much time among the dead, I sometimes forget how much I miss the company of the living. Tell me, son, how much do you believe in mighty Arkay, god of life and death?” Kastus turned and looked at the shrine. The symbol was that of the world surrounded by two overlapping squares, appearing as a sun.

“I’m not sure…” He said, shaking his head. While his belief in Stendarr was great, he sometimes doubted the others. “Tell me about him.”

"Well, as I said, Arkay is the god of life and death. You'll find his temples and Halls of the Dead all across Tamriel. Priests of Arkay such as myself perform rites for the dead and sometimes console the bereaved. We also keep a constant vigil against those who practice the vile arts of necromancy. I asked the question because I was hoping you might be able to help me recover something I've lost.” Kastus turned to him in surprise.

“Oh? What have you lost?”

“My Amulet of Arkay. It's the source of my divine powers and also a sacred badge of office. I misplaced it in the catacombs. I'd look for it, but I've been hearing noises down there. I fear the dead have become…restless. Without that amulet, I'm powerless to confront them. Would you be willing to search for it?”

Kastus frowned. “How have the dead become restless?” He shuddered then, realizing his question. The priest shook his head in sorrow.

“It’s this terrible war,” he lamented. “I’m overwhelmed. As are the catacombs. When blood seeps through the walls, the dead arise. I haven’t been able to spread the word of Arkay in months; I’ve been tending with the city’s dearly departed. But the war has made those who should have passed angry and bloodthirsty. Thus, they remain and haunt the catacombs.”

Kastus shuddered again. “What is your name, priest?” The priest smacked his own forehead and shook his head.

“Ah, how rude of me. Forgive me, son. My name is Andurs. And you?”

“Kastus.” He smiled at the priest, who smiled back fondly. “I’ll get your amulet back.” The priest gasped in joy.

“Ah, thank you, son. I'll just wait here and make sure nothing foul escapes the catacombs. The blessing of Arkay be upon you.” Kastus, feeling dread collect in his stomach, put on a brave face and walked to the iron door. It was cold to the touch. He pushed it open and walked down the steps.

There was no sound in the catacombs save for the door singing open. Kastus inhaled the smell of turned earth and incense. As he exhaled, he drew his sword. _Be brave_. _There is probably nothing down here_.

 _Yeah_ , he conjured Ahlam’s voice. _I’m sure the priest was hearing things_ ; _did you see how old he was_?

 _Ahlam_! Aela angrily chided the illusionary Ahlam. _Don’t say that_. _Even if he does look like he’s about to turn into dust_. Kastus pulled Ahlam’s laugh from his memories: loud and free. He cracked a smile and, feeling stronger with the idea of the two women next to him, continued down the steps.

He glanced to his right and shrieked.

A skeleton paced about, holding a twisted sword, tainted with death. The skeleton turned to him and Kastus felt his blood freeze. He tightened his grip on the sword—and remembered something Vilkas had said when they first sparred. _Loosen your grip and turn slightly towards your opponent_. _An enemy facing head-on is much easier to hit_.

Kastus shifted his body and waited. The skeleton was slow and clumsy. His fear left him and laughter bubbled at his lips. He held it down and cut through the skeleton. It broke apart as the sword cut across his ribs. The bones fell to the floor in a pile; some shattered, while others remained whole. Kastus looked down and smiled to himself.

“Well, that wasn’t that bad.” He heard a slight creaking sound behind him. He whirled around and saw another skeleton, staring at some candles. Kastus crouched down and tried to silently creep towards him. The skeleton turned his head anyway. Sighing, Kastus stood up and swung at the skeleton.

The skeleton blocked him. Kastus blinked, surprised. Despite that, it was still slow. Kastus cut it in the middle and just like the other skeleton, it fell into pieces. Kastus noticed a gold coin in between the ribs. He reached down and took it before heading down the steps.

Kastus encountered three more skeletons, who stumbled at him together. He struggled for a moment when they backed him into a corner—something sharp poked him in the back—before slicing through them. They all fell down in piles; Kastus found six coins in between the bones. Turning around to see what had poked him, Kastus forgot about the coins.

A golden box sat at the edge of a tomb. It was open and magically floating was a strange red-purple jewel. Kastus stared and reached out to touch it. He stopped himself. _No_. _Who knows what this could lead to_? He paused and looked at the shining jewel. It twirled and spun. Kastus sighed and closed the box, putting it into his bag. _Ahlam will know what to do with this_.

Kastus continued forward and found the inner sanctum. There were red mountain flowers woven into wreaths and more dead bodies in tombs. On the table, in between the flowers, was the amulet. Kastus picked it up and let the candlelight bath it a dull orange. Pocketing it, Kastus left the catacombs.

Andurs was still sitting on the same bench when Kastus came to him. “I found it,” he said, holding it up between his fingers. Andurs looked up in surprise.

"Oh, thank Arkay. Please, take this gold for your troubles.” He handed Kastus a bag of fifteen gold. Kastus thought of how unpleased Ahlam would be at the meagre amount of Septims—but it was for the honor of bringing the priest his amulet back, he would explain. “Walk always in the light, in these days of darkness.” With that, Andurs bid him farewell.

Kastus walked out into the bright light. He covered his eyes instinctively and made his way into the marketplace. People milled about and shopkeepers called out, attempting to entice customers. He noticed one woman in particular, who was beautiful.

“Fresh-baked loaves, still warm from the oven! Ripe fruit and fresh vegetables for sale! Straight from the fields and orchards of Whiterun to your table!” She stopped shouting after a moment and stared at Kastus. He blinked and realized he was in front of her stall. The woman frowned and clutched the wooden stall in front of her; her knuckles shifted from the pressure. “I hope you're looking at me like that because you want to buy something?”

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” Kastus quickly glanced down at the vegetables and noticed that a few were bruised. However, he did notice a shiny green apple, almost perfect in shape. He picked it up and held it in the light. The Imperial woman stared at him and then the apple. “Just this apple, please.” The woman nodded and held out her palm.

“Two Septims.” Kastus handed her the two gold coins. Kastus thanked her and bit into the apple. As he turned to leave, the woman sighed loudly. Kastus glanced back. “Oh, I don’t mean to trouble you.” The woman looked at him in surprise. Kastus shook his head and wiped his mouth.

“I am here to listen.” The Imperial woman bit her lip and looked off to the Bannered Mare before nodding once.

“Life's hard enough with all these men propositioning me. But that bard is the worst.” She gestured with her chin to the inn. Kastus titled his head.

“Do you receive a lot of attention from men?”

“You've got no idea. Half the men in Whiterun have proposed to me. Some weren’t even single. They'll never understand. No amount of flowers or honeyed words are going to change my mind. Right now, all that matters is my daughter Mila. No man's going to get between me and my little girl." She shook her head, seeming defeated. Kastus took another bite of the apple and pondered her situation. Perhaps he could help her. But how?

“Who’s the bard that’s bothering you?” The woman slammed her fist on the wooden stall, causing Kastus to jump and a few others to glance over their way.

“That bard Mikael is begging for a dagger up against his throat, the way he goes on about me. I've heard him boasting at the Bannered Mare, saying he'll 'conquer me as a true Nord conquers any harsh beast.' Hmph.” Kastus frowned and tried to recall the bard. He vaguely remembered seeing him—a lanky Nord with slicked back blond hair, who was always looking for his reflection.

“What if I spoke to him?” The woman sighed again and shrugged.

“If you want to try, go right ahead. I don't think anything will get through that thick skull of his, though. My name is Carlotta, by the way. Carlotta Valentia.”

“Kastus Thierry. A pleasure to meet you.” Kastus bid the woman farewell and headed into the Bannered Mare. It was quiet; most of the patrons had left. The windows were open, which allowed the cool breeze and bright light to come in. Kastus saw Hulda restocking shelves; the sour-faced Redguard, Saadia, moved a crate of ale. He didn’t see M’irhtba anywhere. Kastus noticed the lanky Nord in the corner of the room. He sat all alone, brooding slightly and plucking the strings of his lute, making odd sounds.

“Kastus, welcome back!” Hulda called out as he passed by. He smiled and walked to the bar.

“Hulda, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Kastus inclined his head slightly. Hulda smiled.

“Likewise, Kastus. I see you’re a part of the Companions now.” She gestured to his red cloak and Kastus pulled the material slightly to show her. The golden embroidery shined. She marveled at it. “It’s a great honor.”

“Indeed it is. I am most thankful.” Kastus, again, bowed his head down.

“Did you need anything?” She asked. He shook his head and glanced at Mikael. “Ah, him. He’s bothering poor Carlotta Valentia for so long.” Kastus nodded.

“I heard. I spoke with her a moment ago. I told her I would convince him to stop seeking her.” Hulda shrugged and pulled away from the bar. She glanced back at the shelves, counting.

“I wish you luck. No one has been able to convince him of anything.” Kastus sighed and walked to the bard. Mikael didn’t look up. He rested his head on his arm. Kastus cleared his throat.

“Go away,” came the muffled voice of Mikael. “Can’t you see I’m composing?” Kastus glanced about the table and saw no paper nor ink. Kastus raised a brow at the back of the boy’s head.

“You need to leave Carlotta Valentia alone.” Kastus said. Mikael looked up at that. His blue eyes narrowed and Kastus noticed freckles along the bridge of his nose.

“I'm sorry, but that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet.” Kastus did his best to not roll his eyes.

“She's not yours. Stop this nonsense.” He said forcefully. Mikael sighed and looked back at his lute. He plucked a string. It popped and Kastus winced. Mikael didn’t shift in expression as though expecting the cord to snap.

“Maybe you're right. I guess I just didn't want anyone to think I couldn't handle one Imperial lass. On my honor, I won't bother Carlotta ever again.” Kastus nodded and left the brooding minstrel to his broken strings. He took the steps two at a time and found himself in front of Carlotta’s stall once more. Carlotta spoke to a young girl.

"Can you close up the stand early today, Mama?” The girl was maybe ten, Kastus guessed. Carlotta sighed and ran her fingers through her girl’s hair.

“I'm afraid not, little fairy. The fruit has about another day left before it spoils. We've got to sell as much as we can, as soon as we can.”

“That's what you always say.” The girl crossed her arms and Carlotta smiled sadly.

“Because it's always true.”

“Can we at least go to the tavern for supper?”

“Tsk. And to think, I was going to feed you cabbages and apples again.” Carlotta laughed. “Yes, little fairy, we can go to the tavern for supper.”

“Yay!” The girl jumped in the air from happiness. Carlotta smiled and Kastus approached her.

“Carlotta?” Carlotta looked up. “Mikael won’t bother you any more.” She blinked in surprise and tilted her head.

“Really? You convinced that lute player to stop chasing me? I'd thank the gods, but I'll settle for thanking you. Here's some coin for your help.” Carlotta handed him a bag of fifty Septims from under her stall. He tried to refuse, but she pushed the bag into his hand. He thanked her.

Kastus continued to wander Whiterun and looking about to see if anyone else needed help. Children played in the streets and a few merchants and farmers walked through the districts. No one seemed to need him. Kastus wandered to Adrianne Avenicci’s shop and saw her hammering away at a new piece of armor.

“Good morning, Master Adrianne.” The woman looked up in surprise and laughed.

“Good morning, Kastus. I am no master; Eorlund Gray-Mane has that honor.” He smiled anyway and leaned against the pillar beside her. He liked watching smiths work. Ever since he was a young boy, he would always go with his father to town, visiting merchants and blacksmiths. He remembered one day when a smith handed him a beautifully carved amulet of Stendarr. Kastus, still wistfully smiling, touched the amulet through his tunic.

“Do you need any help, anything I can get for you?” Kastus asked. She shook her head, sweat dripping.

“I thank you, Kastus. But I am sure the Companions have you tied. Congratulations, by the way.” She glanced up at him before letting her gaze rest on his cloak. Kastus sighed. Boredom made his head dull and fuzzy. Adrianne looked from her lashes before drawing away from her toiling. She stood arms akimbo; her features were covered in soot.

“There is one thing you could do for me.” Kastus shot up so quickly from the pillar, Adrianne laughed.

“Yes, what is it?” Kastus said too quickly.” Adrianne still smiled and shook her head slightly.

“I work in the forge all day. I've got to if I hope to be as good as Eorlund Gray-Mane some day. In fact, I just finished my best piece of work. It's a sword. I made it for the Jarl, Balgruuf the Greater. It's a surprise, and I don't even know if he'll accept it. But…” Adrianne stopped for a moment and stared at the hem of her frayed apron. “Listen, could you take the sword to my father, Proventus Avenicci? He's the Jarl's steward. He'll know the right time to present it to him.” Kastus nodded.

“Of course, Adrianne. I’d be happy to.” Adrianne thanked him and led him into the shop. She sheathed the greatsword in its scabbard before wrapping it in leather. With that, Kastus headed to Dragonsreach. A few of the guards nodded at him and allowed him to pass. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how kind everyone became when they saw the Companion’s sigil on his back.

The throne room sat empty, but the hearth still roared. A few children wandered through the large rooms, followed by servants and tutors. Many servants worked in the kitchen. A guard whistled and Kastus turned his head. The guard gestured for him to follow up the narrow stairs.

The greatsword was larger than what Kastus was used to. He held it to his chest as he walked up the steps. Even though it was dulled from the leather bindings, Kastus still felt the sharpness of the blade. Adrianne was a good smith in Kastus’s eyes.

At the top of the steps, the room opened once more. Kastus sighed in relief. Proventus and Jarl Balgruuf spoke in whispers over a large map of Skyrim. They discussed war strategies under their breath. Kastus tried not to stare, but noticed Jarl Balgruuf had moved Whiterun’s symbol—a horse—closer to Riverwood.

The guard bade Kastus to wait before speaking with the steward. Proventus looked up at Kastus in surprise as the guard whispered in his ear. Balgruuf ran a hand through his hair and stretched. The guard passed Kastus and Proventus took slow, measured steps toward Kastus. He smiled and held out his hands.

“Ah, this must be that weapon for the Jarl. Poor girl, so eager to prove herself. I'll present it to Balgruuf when his mood is…agreeable.” Kastus nodded and passed the blade to him. Proventus pulled out twenty Septims from his pouch and Kastus thanked him.

Kastus walked down the steps and faintly heard Proventus speak, “My Jarl? My daughter Adrianne wants to forge a new sword for you. Now, it wouldn't be a Skyforge blade, I know, but she really is quite gifted…"

Still trying to kill time, Kastus found himself once more in Jorvaskrr’s training ground. Ria—the second newest Companion—smiled at him and waved him over.

“Kastus! So good to see you, shield-brother. Do you have time to spar?” Kastus looked up at the sun and seeing it still high in the sky, smiled at Ria.

“I have plenty of time.” A few Companions made rounds and watched them spar. Farkas was among them who occasionally barked out suggestions to both of them, which they eagerly accepted.

A few hours passed with Kastus sparring with many members of the Companions—each wanted to test the mettle of the man who almost brought Vilkas to his knees. They took a long rest underneath the awning and ate a full lunch together. There was venison and steak as well as potatoes and leeks. There was seared rabbit and goat. There were eggs aplenty. Kastus hungrily ate as he was exhausted from the sparring. He had never sparred for so long and with such formidable opponents.

As the sun began to set, the others left, leaving Ria and Kastus alone once more. Kastus leaned back in the chair and felt the wood pressing against his back. He stretched his sore legs out in front of him and felt his muscles extend. He sighed in both relief and pain.

“Here,” Ria passed him a glass of water from the table. He thanked her and stood up to reach for it. He smiled at her and, despite the orange glow from the sun, saw her cheeks turn a faint pink. He remained silent in his guilt.

“I must head out now.” She frowned. Kastus downed the water and passed the glass back to her. She held it in her hands.

“Where are you going?”

“Vilkas has a mission for me. I am to rescue someone from Western Watchtower. He told me to wait until nightfall before heading out.” Ria nodded once, distracted. Kastus tilted his head and waited. “Ria?” He whispered and stood, taking a step toward her. She jumped to her feet and the glass fell. It shattered at her feet and the world fell silent for but a moment.

Ria gasped and was already at Kastus’s feet, picking up the broken shards. “Oh, Kastus, forgive me!” Kastus kneeled in front of her and held her hands to stop her.

“It’s fine, Ria. Watch.” He waved his hands across the floor and concentrated on the image of the glass coming back together. No cracks, no imperfection. The air seemed to hum with the realities shifting around them. In a moment, the glass was upon the floor, standing upright. Hesitantly, Ria picked it up and held it up in the dying light. The glass was perfect.

“I didn’t know you knew magic.” Ria frowned and looked at him and then the glass once more. Kastus smiled slightly and shrugged.

“Some. Alteration doesn’t comes easily to me but small things like fixing a broken glass are easy. I’m much better at Destruction spells. I can summon lightning faster than most.” Kastus stood and slowly, Ria rose. She eyed him cautiously.

“Now, I really must be off. I will see you and the others when I get back.” Kastus smiled and waved. She nodded once. He quickly walked around Jorvaskrr and into the darkening streets of Whiterun. He passed a number of people, nobles and merchants in the Wind District before seeing shopkeepers and innkeepers down in the Plains District. The city guard nodded and opened the gates as he approached; the red banner at his back a clear indicator.

The night air was chilly, but not unpleasant. Kastus passed the stables where the horses slept and the lanterns burned low. He passed the brightly lit brothel, hearing giggles and moans from women as well as someone throwing something wooden against the wall. Kastus jumped but shook his head and continued westward on foot.

He summoned a weak light spell and squinted down at his map. The abandoned watchtower seemed to be straight ahead. Kastus rolled up his map and kept his ears open, both to the sounds of the night, and to any would-be thieves.

Insects flew about and the wind seemed to speak a different language. He looked up to see the two moons in the sky. Masser was the larger, red moon while Secunda was the smaller white moon. Kastus smiled up at the stars and moons, wondering if Stendarr was looking down from his realm at that moment. Kastus touched his amulet and knew, in that moment, that the mission would go by easily.

Indeed it did. He found the watchtower with ease. A few stray bandits were picked off silently before Kastus ran into the fray. There were only a handful of men in the whole tower and by the time he came roaring into the center of the watchtower, only three men remained.

As Kastus struggled with one Dunmer bandit, wielding two daggers, a Bosmer archer shot an arrow at him. It slid passed Kastus’s arm, barely cutting open the skin, and instead sunk itself into the half-orc’s kneecap. The man howled in pain as Kastus finished off the Dunmer before stabbing the Orc fatally, silencing him as he choked on his own blood.

The archer screamed for his mother once.

Covered in blood and weary once more, Kastus walked up the dizzying steps slowly. At the top of the tower was a lone figure tied to a chair. Their head was covered with a rough canvas sack. Not trying to be stealthy, Kastus approached loudly. The figure jumped as much as their bindings allowed them.

“Wh-who’s there?” Even with the shaking voice, Kastus recognized it. He kneeled in front of them and pulled off the sack.

“M’irhtba?” She slowly opened her eyes and they almost glowed in the dark light. “What happened?” He asked, cutting open the ropes the bound her wrist and ankles. She shook her head as she rubbed her arms.

“I don’t know. I remember being asleep in Bannered Mare and then, I remember bright light. Maybe a-a-light spell? I’m not sure. I couldn’t see anything though. I just heard voices.” M’irhtba shook her head. “They said _awful_ things.” Kastus held her shoulder tightly.

“They didn’t… _hurt_ you, did they?” M’irhtba frowned slightly before understanding. She shook her head. Kastus fell in exhaustion and relief. “Oh, thank the Divines.”

He passed her his waterskin as well as some dried beef and cheese. She hungrily ate. As she ate, Kastus rummaged about in the locked chest. It took him a moment, but he was able to lock pick through the chest without breaking a single pick.

 _Take that Ahlam_. Inside the chest was a hefty sack of Septims as well as a steel sword. It looked unused. Kastus packed it into the bag. M’irhtba glanced about and held her shoulders. “We should leave.” She insisted. Kastus nodded and led her out of the tower, covered in broken bodies and blood. M’irhtba did not look away once, which surprised Kastus.

Kastus united his cloak and covered M’irhtba’s shoulders. She thanked him and they continued their silent trek back to Whiterun. The silence gave Kastus time to reflect upon himself. He thought of Vilkas’s sweet smile and his heart jumped. Kastus thought of his brother Krag and the open river; he thought of his father, who stated he would travel for a few short months, but that was nearly five years ago. _Where could he have gone_? Kastus asked nothing in particular as he had always done.

Too quickly, they were in front of the Bannered Mare. M’irhtba united the cloak and handed it back to Kastus. She stared down at the fabric as he watched her closely. “Thank you again, Kastus,” she whispered. He nodded silently.

Finally, M’irhtba looked up. Kastus couldn’t help but smile. She was beautiful. In a very different way than Ahlam. _And she is kind and hides her sorrows like the rest of us_. “Where are Ahlam and Aela? They are usually with you.” Kastus grew quiet and thought for a moment. _Should I_ …

“Come with us.” M’irhtba stared at Kastus with furrowed brows. “Ahlam, Aela, and I have a mission from the Court Wizard. You are welcome to join us. Solely if we are not putting you in danger.” M’irhtba laughed suddenly; it was a bright, colorful sound.

“Kastus, I can fight as well as you can.” He raised his brow but said no more. “I would be honored to join you. Where are we meeting?”

“Bleak Falls Barrow in a week’s time. I can come get you.” M’irhtba curtseyed slightly.

“I shall see you then, Kastus.” He smiled and bid her farewell. He walked up the stairs to Jorrvaskr. Already, the red banners and large fire pits felt like home to him. He smiled and entered the building. It was silent and the hearth burned low. Kastus yawned and stretched. The adrenaline had washed out of his system a while ago but now he felt actual fatigue from the day.

Barely greeting the servants, he walked down to the living quarters and found himself in the bathing room. He rubbed the blood and dirt from his body; he picked at his nails and only after replacing the water a third time did he stay inside the warm water. Occasionally, the water would become cool, but Kastus always heated it once more with a fire spell. His eyes closed and he felt safe.

There was a small knock on the door and his eyes languidly opened. “Master Kastus?” A small voice asked. The door opened and he turned to see a young serving girl. She stared at the floor.

“Yes?” His voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat. “Yes, what is it?” He noticed the girl’s hands, clasped in front of her, were shaking. No…she was shaking. _Do I terrify_?

“Master Vilkas wished to see you, sir. Said it wa’ urgent.” Kastus nodded.

“Tell him I will be there shortly.” The girl nodded and, looking up to find the doorknob, Kastus saw a huge scar across her face. Her left eye was milky and her mouth was pulled down in a frown. It looked like some wild beast had clawed at her face. The door closed quietly and Kastus sighed. He didn’t want to leave the water but knew he had to. He pulled himself out of the murky water and dressed slowly in sleeping apparel. He was too exhausted to pick up his bloodied armor. _In the morning_ , he thought.

Kastus made his way down the long hall to Vilkas’s room. He stopped before the door and exhaled. He tugged at the long, cotton tunic. A faded red color, it was slightly too large on him, but kept him warm. He suddenly felt self-conscious about how he looked and nearly left the room, when he heard his name.

“You can come in, Kastus.” Vilkas softly called. Kastus gulped and opened the door. Vilkas sat at his desk, reading a book. Kastus stepped into the room and closed the doors. Vilkas turned around in his seat, smiling.

“You wanted to—” Kastus yawned. Vilkas laughed loudly causing Kastus to blush.

“I wanted to ask you how the mission went and if you needed to rest. Go sleep. I know you’re exhausted.” Kastus nodded but lingered in the room. Vilkas turned back to his book. “Is there something you wish to speak of?” His ankles were crossed in front of him and the book looked dwarfed in his one hand.

“I…The reason I joined the Companions. I wanted to tell you.” Vilkas nodded and waited. “It’s because of my father.” At this, Vilkas grew still. After a moment, he closed the book and turned to face Kastus. Kastus felt like his voice flew away into the Void.

“What happened to your father?” Vilkas gestured for Kastus to sit on the bed. Kastus sank into it and held his face in dismay. The skins were caught underneath him, but Kastus didn’t seem to care.

“He vanished. He told us—my family—that he was going on some pilgrimage here in Skyrim to honor Ysgramor. His brother had been a part of the Companions and died when he was still young, so my father wanted to honor his memory.” Vilkas nodded and encouraged him to continue. “He told us it wouldn’t take more than a handful of months. But it’s been over five years now and I haven’t received news from him.”

Tears welled in Kastus’s eyes and he shook his head. He wanted to swallow them and show his strength, but something about his father’s abandonment made him think of Krag and thus…it was _his_ fault his father had left.

“Kastus.” Vilkas spoke in the softest voice. Kastus looked up from his damp hands and saw Vilkas frowning, hand passing through his long hair. “I do not know what you are going through exactly, but I swear to you, as your shield-brother, I will do all I can to help you find your father.” Kastus broke into a half-smile.

“Thank you, Vilkas. That’s more than anyone else has offered me.” Vilkas nodded slowly.

“Tell me about your father.” Kastus spilled his familial secrets onto Vilkas’s bed as he listened at his desk, book forgotten. Kastus didn’t mention his brother Krag in any form, but did explain that Nermus’s leaving was his own fault.

Vilkas moved from the chair to the floor in front of Kastus. Kastus was weeping at this point, face blotchy. Everything was a wet blur. A warm hand held his thigh. Kastus wiped the tears away and looked down at Vilkas. The older man stared in sorrow. In a slow moment of clarity, Kastus wondered how often Vilkas had seen Farkas cry and how often Vilkas had consoled his twin.

“Kastus, it isn’t your fault that your father is missing. This will be hard to hear but…” Vilkas looked away and sighed. When he turned his head back, Kastus knew what he was going to say. “Perhaps your father died on the pilgrimage here or on the way back.” Kastus felt his heart squeeze and stop. _No_ … _please, by the Gods, anything but that_!

Kastus didn’t realize he had spoken until he was standing up. Vilkas stood and hugged him tightly. Kastus shook from grief at the image of his father lying dead in the snow, buried. He thought of his father being mauled by a bear. Vilkas stroked his back and whispered words of comfort that Kastus did not hear. “Kastus. Forgive me.” Vilkas whispered against his temple. Kastus closed his eyes. “Rest here in my room tonight. I will do all I can to find your father.” Vilkas kissed Kastus upon the forehead and helped him into the bed. Kastus was too exhausted to argue. The furs were warmer and the room was quieter than the common room.

Kastus almost asked Vilkas where he would sleep, but instead, sleep took Kastus before he could open his mouth. Tears still wetted his cheeks and his breath came through his mouth for his nose was stuffed. Vilkas smiled sadly at his sleeping features before leaving the room. Tonight, Vilkas would sleep with his brother as he had done for countless years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 7,139
> 
> fun fact: this chapter's been done since Christmas. But I wanted to edit through it. And then life punched me across my mouth and I'm still not doing so well. but whatever. take it.


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